The Measure of the Spirit
by Rochelle Templer
Summary: Sweets' biological father shows up, determined to take his revenge against the psychologist. It's up to Booth and the rest of the Jeffersonian gang to stop him. A sort-of sequel to The Narrow of the Margin.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I know it's a little crazy for me to start a new story while I'm so swamped with summer classes, but this one has been brewing for a while, and I wanted to get it started at least.

This takes place after the events in The Narrow of the Margin, so it is a sequel of sorts, but it is not a direct sequel. This story will also refer to my The Heart of the Family story a great deal, but as usual, knowledge of that fic will not be essential to enjoy this one. It just enhances the experience is all. ;)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. This is just a hobby. ;P

I want to thank everyone ahead of time who reads/follows/reviews this. I hope you enjoy it. :D

The Measure of the Spirit

Doctor Camille Saroyan frowned as the FBI brought in another corpse into the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab. A couple of days ago, in a town near the Virginia border, a local policeman had discovered a body in the woods next to a small town. The sheriff immediately called in the FBI since he knew their sparsely populated town would not have the resources to identify the body, much less determine if there was a crime to be investigated. After looking over the remains, Booth had the body sent back to the Jeffersonian at Brennan's request. Once there, they had quickly discovered that the body was that of an elderly male who had been shot and killed. The skull had suffered some damage, so Brennan had to work on repairing it before Angela could begin to work on a facial reconstruction to ID the victim.

While forensic techs were processing the scene, another body was discovered. This corpse had been dead longer than the first victim. Cam had been notified of its existence that morning, and she went ahead and requested that it also be sent to the Jeffersonian.

Now she watched as the latest body was laid out for examination on the forensic platform. While she watched, Angela walked over to her with a file in her hand.

"Hey, I was finally able to figure out who that guy is," she said, handing the file over to Cam. "He's a retired cop."

"Nathan Sanders," Cam read from the file. "Looks like he has been retired for a few years now."

"Yeah, you'd think if someone had a grudge against him, they would have acted before now," Angela sighed. Cam continued to skim through the file.

"I'll let Booth know," she muttered.

"Ugh, is that the latest victim?" Angela asked as the body bag on the gurney was opened and the remains lifted out. Cam nodded as she read.

"I hope this doesn't mean we have a serial killer or something," Angela said as she walked away. Cam looked up and shook her head. There was no way to know for sure yet, but she was pretty sure that it was not a coincidence that the two bodies were found so close to each other.

"Excuse me, Doctor Saroyan?"

Cam looked up to see one of the interns leading another man with a visitor's pass pinned to his shirt.

"This man says that he's looking for Doctor Sweets," the intern continued. "He says that he already stopped by the Bureau and that they told him to look here." Cam nodded. Booth had called in Sweets after the first victim was discovered and now that a second one was found, it was likely that the psychologist would be asked to write up a profile. She was pretty sure that Sweets was with Booth and Brennan now, and she knew that Brennan was heading back to the Jeffersonian.

"I see," Cam nodded while looking over at the visitor. "And you are…?"

"The name's Andrew Jensen," the man said walking over to her. "Lance is family to me. All the family I have."

Cam looked Andrew over and frowned. He was a little over 5'9 but she could tell that he was wearing lifts in his shoes. He had dirty blonde hair that hung in stringy waves down to his jaw line. Even though he was smiling, the pathologist couldn't help be feel unnerved by his presence.

"Yes well…I expect Doctor Sweets to arrive any time now," she said. "In the meantime, you can wait over there." Cam pointed toward the space next to Brennan's office.

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Jensen grinned before walking away. As he moved out of sight, Cam shuddered a little; she still felt uneasy about him.

'_Family, huh?'_ she thought to herself. '_I have my doubts about that, but we'll see.'_ She then made sure to ask one of the guards to keep an eye on Andrew.

* * *

Later, Cam swiped her card and walked up the forensic platform. The body was ready for examination and she had put on a lab coat and apron. From a cursory exam she could tell that this body was male too and that he had been dead only about a couple of months longer than the first victim.

'_Angela's probably right about this being some kind of serial killer,'_ she mused. She knew how much Brennan hated it when people make assumptions early in an investigation, but other explanations seemed unlikely.

Soon the sounds of voices distracted her and she looked down to see Brennan and Sweets walking toward the platform. Cam couldn't hear the whole conversation, but she smiled as she realized that Sweets and Brennan were having yet another debate on the merits of psychology versus anthropology.

Brennan then put on a lab jacket and swiped her card so that the two of them could join Cam on the platform.

"We've started processing the latest body and I've already sent some particulates to Hodgins," the pathologist said. "Where's Booth?"

"Booth will be along in a minute," Brennan answered. "What do we know thus far about these remains?"

"I won't know for sure until some tests come back, but from my initial examination, it looks like this one was murdered in a similar fashion as the first victim," Cam said. "My guess is that we are dealing with the same killer here."

"That's pure conjecture," Brennan said, making a face. "You have no evidence of that yet."

"Two victims who died within months of each other and who were found within a few yards of each other?" Cam said. "I think we can safely say that there was a single person or group of persons involved."

"If this is a serial killer, then there is bound to be some sort of connection or commonality between the victims," Sweets added. "Once we know their identities, I can work up a profile to help us find those connections."

"By the way, Doctor Sweets there is someone here to see you," Cam said. "He's waiting for you by Doctor Brennan's office. He says that he's family."

"Really?" Sweets said, raising an eyebrow He then sprinted off the platform and walked toward Brennan's office. Ever since his parents' deaths, the only family that he had any contact with was his cousin, Peter. But he didn't get to see much of Peter because he was in the Army and was often serving either across the country or overseas. Usually, Peter let him know when he was coming to visit, but Sweets was delighted at the prospect of a surprise visit.

However, as he approached the office and saw who was waiting for him, his heart dropped and he became pale. It had been over fifteen years since he had seen him last, but Sweets knew that he would never forget that face or the cold grin that was plastered on it now. Andrew had heard him coming, and his grin became even wider.

"Hello Lance," he said. "It's been a long time."

Sweets began to tremble. He wanted to run, but was too scared to move. Andrew walked over and leaned toward him.

"What's the matter?" he said. "Got nothing to say to your old man?"

* * *

Meanwhile Booth finally walked in and Cam and Brennan came down to meet him.

"Hey Cam," he said, nodding at her. "So…what can you tell me, Bones? Are we dealing with one psycho here or what?"

"There's no way to know that for sure yet," Brennan sighed.

"But preliminary examinations show that both victims suffered a similar injury to the back of the head," Cam added. "I can't know for certain yet until Doctor Brennan finishes her examinations, but I betting that that injury will lead to cause of death for both victims."

"I got my results back," Hodgins said, walking over to join them with a file in his hand. Cam pulled off her latex gloves and threw them away before taking the file from Hodgins.

"Turns out our latest vic was dumped in the woods only three months before the first one," the entomologist continued.

"Come on Bones, same cause of death, same dump site for the body," Booth said. "We're probably dealing with a serial killer, right?"

"The evidence is compelling…but far from conclusive," Brennan conceded.

"I just knew it was a serial killer," Angela smiled as she appeared.

"No one has said definitively that it's a serial killer yet," Brennan protested. Booth rolled his eyes and decided to ignore that comment.

"Hey, where's Sweets?" Booth asked, looking around.

"A visitor stopped by and said he was family," Cam answered. "Sweets was meeting him by Brennan's office."

Just then everyone could hear yelling and as they walked toward the sound, they realized it was coming from the area near Brennan's office. When they arrived, they could see Sweets hanging his head while Jensen screamed at him.

Booth clenched his jaw at the scene. He hadn't heard everything, but there had been some nasty words directed at the psychologist. Even worse was the way that Sweets stood there, silent and shaking slightly. But what really upset Booth was the look in Sweets' eyes; it was the look of a wounded child.

Sweets murmured something and then Jensen balled up his fist and struck him in the mouth. The psychologist staggered back to slump against the wall, his hands flying up to cover his mouth. Everyone could see red trickling through the spaces between his fingers.

Booth was instantly on the move and beat the rest of them over there. He grabbed Jensen and threw him to the ground. Andrew grunted and struggled, but the agent was easily able to overpower him and he was flipped onto his stomach. Booth pinned him there and pulled his cuffs out of his pocket.

During all this, Cam, Angela, Brennan and Hodgins rushed over toward Sweets. Hodgins helped to steady him on his feet while Cam managed to get Sweets to move his hands. Angela pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at Sweets' split lip.

Jensen let out a sharp cry of pain as Booth clicked the cuffs on him, but the agent wasn't too concerned with being careful with him.

"You just made a big mistake," he growled. "Assaulting a federal employee. You've earned some quality time in jail."

"That stupid kid doesn't deserve no sympathy from you," Jensen said, venom filling his voice. Brennan walked over to him, her eyes icy.

"Doctor Sweets has earned numerous academic and professional achievements due to his genius level of intelligence," she said. "You, on the other hand, clearly have difficulty grasping the proper use of language. I would venture that it is you who is actually stupid."

Despite the pain and misery that he felt, Sweets couldn't help but be cheered by Brennan's words. But he winced again as Angela brushed the blood from the wound on his lip.

"Sorry sweetie," the artist said as he hissed. Booth yanked Jensen to his feet.

"All right, let's go," he said.

"Agent Booth," Sweets spoke up walking away from Angela.

"Don't worry Sweets. This creep has a one-way ticket to a jail cell," the agent grimaced. He then squeezed Jensen's shoulder so tight that he whimpered softly.

"I…I don't want to press charges," Sweets said, hanging his head again.

"Doctor Sweets, this man lied about being your family and struck you," Cam said, incredulous. "Why in the world would you not want to press charges?"

"Why don't you tell them the truth, Lance?" Andrew sneered. "Or are you too scared?"

"Sweets?" Angela said, putting a hand on his arm. The psychologist shook his head, and when he looked back up at Booth, his eyes were shiny with barely concealed tears.

"Agent Booth…you told me…you made me promise that I would tell you if…if he ever," Sweets gulped and looked down again. But Booth finally understood.

Some time ago, he had made Sweets promise to tell him if his biological father ever appeared in his life again. The agent had found out back then that it was Sweets' birth father who had given him the whip scars on his back in an attempt to murder him. Booth was glad that he had kept his promise.

But he was infuriated by the idea that Jensen seemed to think that he could continue to hurt Sweets.

"What's the matter? Ashamed of your old man?" Andrew taunted.

"You're not my father," Sweets shot back. Jensen lunged forward, but Booth kept him firmly in place.

"You filthy, worthless brat," he yelled. "How dare you lie like that."

"Are you sure that you don't want to press, Sweets?" the agent said in a tightly controlled voice. The psychologist looked down at the floor again and shook his head.

"No, I…just let him go," he mumbled. "I…I don't want to…"

Sweets then shrugged the rest of them off and darted away down the hall. Hodgins and Angela took off after him. The rest of them glared at Jensen.

"Let's go," Booth said, yanking him along.

"Hey what gives? That brat said he wasn't pressing charges," Jensen said.

"Maybe not, but I want you off the premises," Cam retorted, narrowing her eyes. "And you can be sure that if you try to come here again, you will be charged with trespassing."

"So you're leaving," Booth said, dragging him away.

"Bastard," Cam muttered as they walked out of sight. "I can't believe that he's Sweets' father."

"Actually there are some similarities in the jaw line and in the shape of the cheekbones," Brennan countered. "Although, I do not think that Doctor Sweets inherited much from him genetically."

"So he had to live with a person like that his whole childhood?" Cam said her eyes sad.

"Sweets said he was adopted as a child," Brennan said. "So I imagine that he didn't spend too much time with him."

"Any time with him would have been too much," the pathologist said shaking her head. "I can see why he was adopted...and thank God for that." She then walked away to talk with security about not letting Jensen back into the building.

* * *

Outside in the parking lot, Booth continued to push Jensen along until they reached a beat up car that he claimed was his. Once there, the agent slammed him against it.

"What are you? Some kind of fed?" Andrew asked.

"That's right," Booth said, pulling his wallet out and flipping it open. "Special Agent Seeley Booth…But that's not what I want you to think about right now." He jammed his wallet back into his pocket and moved closer to Jensen.

"What I want you to think about is the fact that I'm a former Army Ranger," he continued. "Want to know what my job was?" Jensen rolled his eyes, but then he gulped when Booth let his suit jacket open up a little farther, exposing his sidearm.

"Sniper," Booth hissed. "In other words, I'm an expert at taking out my target in such a way that they never see it coming." He then gripped the collar of Jensen's shirt and pulled him close. He flinched at Booth's intense gaze.

"Stay away from him," the agent growled. "Stay away from here or from anywhere else he goes. If I ever catch you around him again…you will not see it coming either."

Andrew trembled as Booth turned him around and removed the cuffs. Once they were off Booth gave him one last shove away from him.

"Now go…and make sure that I don't see you again."

Andrew stood there for a moment and shook with rage, but he did not dare take one step toward the agent. He then got into his car and slammed the door. After starting it up, Jensen drove off, his tires squealing.

Booth waited until he was out of sight before he headed back inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Ok, I decided to go ahead and put up the next chapter, but I doubt that there will be any more updates for a few days while I finish several papers for college and work further into drafting this story.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. Natch.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. I was very excited by the immediate response to this story. :D Thanks again!

**Buttercups3**: It took me a few tries to settle on this title, but the more I think about the story overall, the more it seems to fit. I'm glad you liked the moment with Brennan. ;) I think she believes him to be a genius, she just doesn't say it out loud most of the time. Trust me, you will learn to hate Andrew all over again in this one.

**Lives in the now**: I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter. :) As to Jensen's motives...they will become apparent as the story progresses...

**Fear Herself**: Yes, I finally got around to writing this one out. :D I hope you enjoy it and I hope to see more from you soon.

**Mendenbar**: No, this is not a snippet. ;) This will be a longer story along the lines of The Transition of the Therapist (if not a little longer than that). You're right in thinking that Andrew is not going to be easily dissuaded into leaving Sweets alone. He's had too many years to contemplate his revenge. Oh and by now the error you found should be fixed. Feel free to PM me if you find any others and I will fix them ASAP. Thank you. :D

**Mysterious Jedi**: Thanks for the review. I'd be terrified if Booth was after me too...but he'd be a good person to have on your side. ;)

**Peanutmeg**: I knew that you and a few others were hoping that I would get to this story, so I'm glad that you liked it. :) Hopefully you will enjoy the rest of it as well.

**Sweetfavouritethings**: Well I hope the response is that you will keep reading. :D Seriously, there will be a lot of ups and downs in this one, so enjoy the ride...As to your other question: there is a lot of debate as to how much genes shape personality with compelling evidence on both sides of the debate. But you can bet that it will be something that Sweets considers throughout this story. ;)

**Stephaniew**: You're right that I really should be studying, but hey, everyone needs a break sometime. ;) And you know me: I have an addiction to both angst and fluff, so expect loads of both throughout this story. Thanks again for the review and I hope to see more from you soon. :D

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 2

Angela Montenegro was frustrated. She kept slapping her palm against the men's room door while Hodgins looked on. Sweets had outrun the two of them and had slipped into one of the private bathrooms for the staff of the Medico-Legal lab. Once there he shut the door and locked it. They arrived seconds after that and had been trying to get Sweets to come out ever since.

"Sweets…please open the door," she yelled. "We just want to make sure you're ok." She then smacked the door a couple more times.

"Hey man, are you all right?" Hodgins asked. "Please just answer us." He tried banging his fist on the door, but was as unsuccessful as Angela. The psychologist continued to be silent in response to their pleas.

"Should we break down the door?" Angela asked.

"We'd probably just kill our shoulders trying to bust through that," Hodgins said shaking his head. "Then Cam would just kill us anyway for breaking something else around here.

"We have to do something, Jack," Angela said. "We can't just leave him like this."

* * *

Inside the bathroom, Sweets stood in front of the sink, trying to stop himself from panicking. He turned on the faucets to full blast so that he could focus on the sound of the water gushing out, and so that it would drown out the sound of his tears. He looked in the mirror and saw that his face and eyes had turned red and that scarlet drops were still dribbling from his lip into the white porcelain of the sink.

As the red liquid swirled down the drain with the clear water, Sweets thought back to the conversation he had with Andrew.

'_What's wrong?' Jensen chuckled. 'Aren't you happy to see me?'_

'_What are you doing here?' the psychologist asked. Jensen began to pace in a circle around Sweets, not unlike a predator stalking prey.  
_

'_I just wanted to…check up on you,' he said as casual as if he were talking to an old friend. 'I've been thinking about you a lot recently and I was wondering how you were doing.'_

_Sweets shivered at the idea that he was on Andrew's mind. When he was a child, Sweets would have done anything to make his birth father forget about him._

'_I heard you got a job working for the feds,' Jensen continued. 'I had to see this for myself. You're way too scrawny to be an agent. I'll bet you're some kind of office clerk.'_

_The sneering tone made Sweets hang his head. He wondered if Jensen would ever lose the power to make him feel worthless._

'_Not that it's any of your concern, but I'm actually a FBI profiler and psychologist,' he said quietly. Andrew stopped pacing and moved to stand in front of him._

'_A shrink?' he said, saying the word with as much venom as possible. 'I heard that they gave you some fancy "doctor" title, but this is why? Because you're a shrink?' Jensen shook his_ _head and muttered some curses under his breath._

'_I should have known that those geezers who adopted you would let you get into a meaningless job like that,' he said looking back at Sweets. He then started to grin again, and Sweets felt cold inside._

'_I heard that they finally kicked off a couple years ago,' Jensen snickered. 'I bet you cried like a baby. I guess you won't be able to rely on them to protect you anymore. It's just you and me now, Lance. I'm all the family you've got. So you better get used to it.'_

'_No… you will never be family to me,' Sweets murmured. Jensen's face became contorted with rage and he began to scream a torrent of abuse of abuse at him._

'_Stupid…worthless…good-for-nothing…filthy...'_

_They were all words Sweets had heard a thousand times before. Andrew had drilled them into his head on a daily basis while he was living with him. The words often accompanied beatings. It had taken years of love and care from his true parents, the Sweets, before he stopped listening to those words inside his head on a daily basis._

_But they still lurked deep down in his soul and now Jensen's presence was causing them to well back up to the surface._

'_Please leave me alone,' Sweets murmured. Andrew suddenly stopped and glared at him._

'_By the way, I owe that old man of yours something, so I guess I'll give it to you,' he spat. Seconds later, Sweets felt the impact of Jensen's fist against his mouth._

_The blow itself wasn't that bad; Andrew had inflicted much worse on him in the past. But the all-too-familiar sensation of his birth father hitting him and the feel of his own blood coming forth had sent Sweets back to when he was a terrified four-year-old boy. Helpless and completely at Jensen's mercy. _

_

* * *

_Gasping for breath, Sweets figured that he probably would have had a panic attack after being struck if not for the fact that Booth had acted so quickly to subdue Jensen. The psychologist knew that he would never be able to thank Booth enough for that.

Suddenly his train of thought was interrupted when he started to hear Booth's voice inside his head. But as his mind cleared he realized that that sound was not coming from inside his mind.

"Come on Sweets," the agent yelled. "Don't make me break down this door."

Sweets was pretty sure that that was not an empty threat, so he turned off the water and took a deep breath to try to compose himself. He then walked over to the door, unlocked it, and opened it. Waiting outside was Booth, who was poised to kick the door in. Standing around him with concerned looks on their faces were Brennan, Hodgins, Cam, and Angela.

"Hey are you all right?" Hodgins said gently. Sweets nodded slightly.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, going back to staring at his shoes. "I'm sorry…I should get back to work." He tried to walk past them, but Booth put out a hand to stop him.

"You can't just go back to the office, Sweets," he said firmly.

"Look, I don't want to talk about it," the psychologist snapped. "It's over now, and I just want to get back to my office."

"Actually Doctor Sweets, Booth stopped you because you have blood on your shirt," Cam said her voice soft. Sweets looked down and saw that there was a palm-sized stain of red in the middle of his shirt.

"Oh," he said, not taking his eyes off the blood. He wondered how he could missed that before now.

Angela walked into the bathroom and yanked out some paper towels from a dispenser. She then folded them into a tight square and placed it over the wound on Sweets' lip, causing him to flinch slightly.

"Come on, Hodgins and I will take care of that for you," she said, putting her arm around him and guiding him along. "He's got a first-aid kit in his office."

"Then I can run you by your apartment so you can change shirts," Booth offered.

"Thank you," Sweets nodded as he let Angela and Hodgins push him toward the entomologist's office. After they left Cam turned to Brennan and Booth.

"That guy said his name was Andrew Jensen, and he mentioned to one the interns that he had been looking for Sweets at the Bureau," she said. "I'm worried about what he'll do next."

"Booth, why wouldn't Sweets press charges?" Brennan asked. Booth shook his head; he couldn't stop thinking about the haunted look in Sweets' eyes while Jensen yelled at him.

"I'm not sure what he's thinking or if he's even thinking straight at all," the agent muttered. "All I know is that we need to make sure that creep stays away from Sweets."

Over in Hodgins' office, Angela had finally managed to stop the bleeding and had cleaned up Sweets' face. Angela and Hodgins kept giving each other worried glances while Sweets remained silent and unresponsive, despite attempts to comfort him. As she was finishing up, Booth, Brennan and Cam walked in.

"Let's go," Booth said, gesturing toward Sweets. He nodded and followed the agent out of the room, his head still down.

"Poor Sweets," Angela sighed. "I hope he will be all right."

"I'm sure that Booth will make sure that nothing happens to him," Brennan said.

"Let's hope so," Hodgins nodded. "I don't want to think about what would happen if Sweets ran into that jerk again."

* * *

It was a quiet drive back to Sweets' apartment. The psychologist spent his time staring out the window while Booth concentrated on the traffic. Sometimes Booth would glance over at him, but Sweets didn't move once. After saying nothing for a few minutes, Booth cleared his throat loudly.

"Look…you haven't forgotten have you?" he asked. "About the promise you made?" Sweets turned to look at him, but still did not speak.

"You promised that you would tell me if your bio dad ever showed up," the agent continued.

"I did that," Sweets said, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Maybe so, but don't go thinking that that was a onetime thing," Booth added. "If he keeps bothering you, I want to know."

"Agent Booth, I don't think it will be a problem," Sweets said trying to conceal how uncomfortable this conversation made him. "He…he just does things like that to get a reaction."

"Things like stalking to your workplace and assaulting you?" Booth snorted. "Cam told me how he tried to find you at the Bureau before tracking you down to the Lab. And then with what happened there… These are not the actions of someone looking for a mere social call." Sweets turned back toward the window, and Booth let out a sigh of frustration.

After driving into the parking lot of Sweets' apartment building and pulling over to park, Booth decided to try a different approach and put his hand on Sweets' shoulder.

"Look Sweets, I know that you don't want to talk about what he did to you," he said softly. "I'm just asking you to let me know if he keeps harassing you." Booth gave Sweets shoulder a little squeeze.

"He doesn't have the right to hurt you, you know? He didn't then, and he doesn't now." Sweets finally looked over at him with a trace of a smile on his face.

"Thank you Agent Booth," he said as he opened the door. "For... the ride." He then got out and walked inside the building. While waiting for the psychologist to come back, Booth decided that he needed to keep an eye on Jensen.

Whether Sweets wanted it that way or not.

* * *

After changing suits, Sweets came back and Booth took him over to the Hoover building.

"I'll come by later to see how you are doing," Booth said as he dropped him off. He then left before Sweets could protest.

Once inside, the therapist canceled his appointments for the day and sat down at his desk to do some profiling work. But after three failed attempts to write the opening line of his first report, the events of the day finally caught up with Sweets. He folded his arms onto the desk in front of him and put his head down to weep.

He couldn't stop thinking about Jensen. For years, he had hoped that his birth father had left the country, gone back to prison or even died so that he wouldn't have to face him again. The last time he had was when he was seven years old, and the Sweets were in the process of adopting him. During the proceedings, Jensen had terrorized him greatly, and by the time it was over, Sweets was petrified.

He thought back to how his father, David Stephen Sweets, took care of him during this time.

* * *

_One afternoon, almost three weeks after the adoption hearing, Lance had fallen asleep on the couch in the family room while his mother, Carolyn was reading to him. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, so she left him there so he could take a nap. But soon his dreams shifted to nightmares about what Jensen threatened to do to him, and about what he actually had done to him. He began to cry, scream and thrash in his sleep. Fortunately David had been nearby._

'_Lance…sport…wake up now,' David said, shaking him gently. Lance screamed himself awake. Then David sat down on the couch and scooped Lance up into his lap and into his arms. _

'_It's all right now,' his father murmured, holding him while he wept. 'I've got you.'_

'_Dad,' Lance cried. 'He's going to get me…he's going to hurt me.' He began to hyperventilate, but he stopped when David held him closer._

'_Lance, he will not hurt you anymore,' he said firmly. 'He's no longer a part of your life.'_

'_But…but he said…'_

'_I don't care what he said,' David said, a flash of anger briefly shining in his eyes. He then shifted Lance so that he could look into his eyes while he cradled him._

'_You're my son and I love you,' he said softly. 'And your mother and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. So don't be scared now; we're here to take care of you. Always.' _

_Lance finally began to calm down. Over the past year, he had come to feel secure while he was in his father's arms, and he relished that security now. He embraced David tightly and snuggled up against him._

'_Don't leave me, Dad' he begged. 'Please stay here with me.' Lance suddenly felt his father give him a kiss to the top of his head._

'_I won't leave you, sport' David whispered to him. 'I promise that I will never leave you.' _

_

* * *

_Back in the present, Sweets began to cry harder. Even though he was an adult now, Sweets longed to be in his father's arms again. But his parents had died more than two years ago, so he knew that wasn't possible. At this moment, Sweets felt completely alone.

'_Dad, I wish you were here,'_ he thought. _'Andrew's back and I…I'm scared.'_


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Finally! :D I'm free from summer classes. So hopefully the updates will be much more frequent than they have been.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is greatly appreciated.

**Mendenbar:** I completely agree with you. While I see Sweets only acknowledging David as his father, he can't seem to let go of the feeling of obligation and/or habit of letting Andrew abuse him. Unfortunately, as illustrated in my THotF story, Sweets has a hard time letting people in, even people who have proven their affection for him...And yes, I think he probably has an idea of what Booth's childhood was like...we'll have to see if that common past becomes a bonding point. ;)

**Sweetfavoritethings**: Thank you. :D It did have a bit of the feel of TBotBL to me as well, especially since I wrote a fic around that episode. Since this is supposed to take place after that episode it made sense to me to take that approach. Thanks for the review.

**Buttercups3**: This chapter should be to your liking too then since it's also a long one...Yeah, I added the 'please' bit since I figure that he would still be frightened by Jensen even after all this time and would revert back to old habits...Don't be surprised if you see more of David and Carolyn as the story progresses. ;)

**Mysterious Jedi**: Thanks for the review. You're right that he has the Jeffersonian gang to lean on now. It's just a matter of him letting them help him...

**Cobalt6233**: Yes, it seems like so many of the Bones characters have had difficult pasts. I sometimes think that they band together to help each other get past them...as always thanks for the reviews. :)

**Stephaniew**: Exactly! A part of what would make Sweets upset is how his past is intruding on the life that he's tried to build for himself (and that his parents tried to create for him). It's an element of why it's hard for him to discuss it with the others. But as the story continues, it will become clear that avoidance will not be possible.

**Fear Herself**: Thank you! :D As I mentioned to Buttercups3, this will probably not be the only flashback in the story as I weave Sweets dealing with Andrew before with the present...And I see you've started a new story instead of updating TPitP. ;P No worries, I completely understand getting behind in projects.

**Whybeme**: Sadly this story will not feature Swaisy. It's sort of in an odd timeline where it's after the events in Season Five but it is not speculative of Season Six. I'm still reeling from the events in the season finale, so I decided to not explore that relationship too much in this story since she was not in The Narrow of the Margin (which this is supposed to follow). I hope you can still enjoy it anyway.

**Peanutmeg**: Thank you for the review as always. :) As you will see, Sweets will try to handle things on his own, but that will not last...

**Super ario**: Yeah, I know you were looking forward to this one, so hopefully you will enjoy it. :) Updates will be more frequent now, so I hope you can enjoy the Bones fandom again with me. ;)

**ValykirieRevolution**: Welcome aboard. :D I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic as much as the last two chapters.

**Ladykale1985**: You can be sure that Booth will not just stand by while Andrew tries to bring chaos into Sweets' life. ;) Thanks for the review.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 3

Back at the Medico-Legal lab, Cam was startled to find out that they would be receiving yet another body from the same dump site as the other two sets of remains.

After the corpse was wheeled in and placed on another table on the forensic platform, Cam noted that this victim had not been dead as long as the other victims but the remains were in even worse shape. The head in particular had suffered major damage and the pathologist knew that there would need to be even more extensive reconstruction of the skull before Angela could tell them anything.

Hodgins walked over to Cam while she was signing the necessary forms to receive this latest set of remains.

"Another one?" he said, eying the interns and lab staff preparing the corpse. Cam nodded her head.

"I hope we catch this psycho soon," she said. "Doctor Brennan has looked over the bones of the cop and she says that there is evidence that he was beaten severely before he died." She then opened a file that she had been given from the forensic techs on the scene.

"And it looks like this latest victim was further abused," she said. "Whoever is doing this is getting more and more violent each time, and they probably won't stop until we catch them." Hodgins shook his head.

"Let's just hope this guy doesn't get to anyone else anytime soon," he added.

* * *

Back at the Hoover building, Booth got a call from Cam telling him about the latest victim. He thanked her for the information and hung up so that he could get back to looking over his own notes, files, and reports about the case. After a short while, one of the junior agents knocked on Booth's door, a stack of files cradled in one arm.

"Excuse me, Agent Booth, here is the information you requested," he said.

"Good, just leave it on my desk," Booth nodded. The man walked over and plopped the stack down on the edge of the desk and then walked out, closing the door behind him.

Booth wrote a couple more things down in his notes and then pushed his papers aside to go through the pile that he had just been given. He had requested a background check on Andrew Jensen and so he leaned back in his chair as he went over the files that they had on him.

The agent discovered that Andrew had his first arrest by the time he was sixteen for assaulting a classmate with a baseball bat.

'_So…he's been hurting people from an early age,'_ he thought to himself. He also noticed, however, that the arresting officer had noted that Andrew had some welts himself at the time he was arrested. From the descriptions given, Booth began to theorize that perhaps Andrew had a violent household himself growing up.

'_Still that doesn't excuse his behavior…Plenty of people grow up with abusive people and they don't all become abusers.'_

Booth shuddered for a moment at some unwelcome memories that came into his head, but he quickly shook them off and went back to reading the files. He went on to read about numerous arrests for petty things like shoplifting and vandalism along with assault which was frequent up until Andrew was about twenty. Around that time, it was reported that Jensen had a son with one Lillian Place. There wasn't much more for a few years until an anonymous phone call to Social Services and the police led to Andrew's most severe series of charges yet.

That night the police had charged Jensen with drug possession, assaulting an officer, illegal possession of a firearm and child abuse. After looking at the police report, Booth looked through the report from Social Services. It was written by the boy's caseworker, Lauren MacArthur.

The agent swallowed hard as he read through the report for Lance Jensen. In it, MacArthur detailed not only a horrific level of abuse that he had suffered on the night that she found him, she also mentioned a number of other injuries that the boy had suffered over an almost three year period up to that point. Booth noted that the judge trying Andrew gave him five years over the average for the sorts of crimes he had been charged with because of his "excessive cruelty to a child".

The next file that Booth opened was filled with forms and details from a custody hearing where Jensen lost all custody of his son, who was then adopted by a Mr. and Mrs. Sweets. The boy had been living with them for a year and the Sweets petitioned for the right to adopt him. But even this adoption hearing did not go smoothly and Booth read how Andrew had apparently visited his son and threatened and assaulted him again not long after Lance had testified against him. Close to the time that Jensen was eligible for parole, a request was made by Mr. David Sweets to have a restraining order be put on Andrew, which made it so that he could not come within five miles of either his son or the Sweets themselves. The request was quickly granted in light of the history presented to the judge.

After an uneventful stay in prison and time on parole, Jensen moved around from state to state. He was arrested a few more times for various assault and battery charges, but was never convicted of anything. In fact, there was nothing in his record for the last five years.

Booth shoved the files away, disgusted. He knew first-hand how cruel fathers could be, but he couldn't imagine going through the sadistic level of abuse which had been reported in those files. It made him angry all over again to think that Sweets had had to endure that kind of childhood.

Suddenly he saw some papers sticking out of the Social Services file that he didn't remember reading. He picked them up and saw that one was a letter from Mrs. MacArthur recommending that the Sweets be given permanent custody of Lance Jensen.

'_This child is healthy, happy and loved in this home,'_ the last lines of the letter read. _'It is clearly in the boy's best interests to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Sweets.' _This made Booth smile a little.

'_At least he was put with good people,'_ he thought. Booth thought back to how his Pops had taken care of him after his father went away and realized that Sweets probably had similar feelings of gratitude and love for his parents as he did for his grandfather.

But then Booth thought about the look on Sweets' face while Andrew yelled at him earlier that day.

'_It's still there….whatever it was that he felt while Andrew was doing all that to him…he's still carrying it around inside of him.'_

This did not shock the agent much; he knew that it was nearly impossible to let something like that go. But with that thought everything else fell into place: the reason Sweets did not want to press charges, his reaction to Jensen's appearance, and his reluctance to talk about his past. As it came together, Booth knew that it would be extremely difficult for Sweets to deal with, much less talk about, this time in his life which had been re-introduced with Andrew's appearance.

However, after reading those reports, Booth became increasingly concerned about this turn of events. It was evident that Jensen was a violent criminal, who held no remorse for what he did to his own son.

'_If he's wanting back into Sweets' life, it's not without reason,'_ he figured_. 'But why show up now? What does he want?'_

The agent knew that he would get no help from Sweets in finding out more, and that he would have to dig up things on his own.

But he also strengthened his resolve to make sure that Jensen left Sweets alone.

* * *

After pulling himself together, Sweets worked until late evening on his profiling assignments. Although it had been difficult at first, he was eventually able to bury himself into his work. As he completed each report, he let his thoughts and feelings about the rest of the day drift to the back of his mind.

Booth stopped by at one point to ask him to dinner. Sweets was able to convince the agent to let him stay and work, but a couple hours later Booth came back with some pizza and insisted that the psychologist eat some of it before he would leave again. Even though it annoyed him at the time, Sweets was grateful for that since he would have been starving by this point if he hadn't gotten some food in. Booth checked on him one last time before leaving for the Jeffersonian and Sweets put some more thought into getting that lock for his door at long last, but the feeling quickly passed. By the end of his day, it was dark and Sweets was exhausted. He was looking forward to going home and collapsing into bed in an attempt to forget that this day ever happened.

But when he walked out to his car, he discovered that all four of his tires had been slashed. Sweets slumped his shoulders in defeat; now it would be even longer before his day could end. As he pulled out his cell phone and dialed for a tow truck, he began to feel irritation at the childish act. After giving his information and location of the garage he wanted it towed to, the psychologist hung up and leaned against his car.

Suddenly something Booth said came back to him.

'_Cam told me how he tried to find you at the Bureau before tracking you down at the Lab.'_

Sweets then shuddered; he was sure that Andrew was the one responsible for this. But even that didn't bother him as much as the next thought that came to mind.

'_He knew which car was mine….what else does he know about me?'_

_

* * *

_The next morning, the Royal Diner was the place where a very pale and worn looking Sweets sat, picking over his breakfast. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He had spent hours lying awake, worried that Andrew had tracked down his home address. Whenever Sweets finally did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with the kinds of nightmares that he had suffered from as a child. While he had managed to keep himself from screaming, the psychologist did wake up to cold sweats and fresh tears on his cheeks.

He finally gave up trying to sleep and instead got up early to get ready for work. While brushing his teeth, Sweets noticed that his lip had swollen and that there was a mangled scar where he had been hit. The area was still tender to the touch.

He quickly got dressed in one of his nicest suits, finding some comfort in how formal and businesslike it was. While on the subway, Sweets decided that it would be best to try to eat something before work, so after getting off, he headed to the diner.

After sitting down and ordering, the psychologist called his secretary and canceled all of his counseling sessions for this day as well. He already knew that he wouldn't be able to put up the calm, soothing demeanor that he needed as a therapist.

Sweets then called his garage and made arrangements to pick up his car later that day and to pay the bill, which he winced at. While he could afford it, he hated having to spend that kind of money just because Andrew decided to make his life a little more miserable.

Not long after making his calls, the food arrived. The waitress smiled at him as she served it, having recognized Sweets from his many visits, but her eyes held some sadness at his hurt lip. The psychologist took in a couple of mouthfuls of eggs and as Wyatt had once mentioned, they were superb.

Even so, Sweets found that food was not particularly appetizing that day.

* * *

Meanwhile, Booth showed up at the Jeffersonian and went to Brennan's office. She was at her desk typing and Booth sat down on her couch.

"The Bureau called me earlier this morning," he said, sipping at some coffee from an orange mug. "They said that another body had been found in the same dump site and that it had been brought here."

"Yes, this one is a more recent victim, so there is a great deal of flesh still on the bones," Brennan answered while not looking away from her screen. "Cam also mentioned that there was a greater level of trauma to the head with this victim so more than likely the skull has suffered even more damage than any of the previous victims."

"Anything else you know about the other guy that was dug up," Booth said. "Like who he is?"

"I'm way ahead of you there, big guy. Angela just gave me his ID," Cam said walking in with a file in her hand. She opened it and proceeded to read.

"The victim was a Ronald Anders," she said. "He was a lawyer and not one of reputable kinds."

"Ah one of those ambulance chaser types, huh?" the agent said, reaching for the file.

"Yep, although this one was a sort of jack-of-all-trades types," the pathologist said, handing it over to him.

"I don't know what any of this means," Brennan said, finally looking up from her screen.

"It means that he was a really shifty lawyer, Bones," Booth said, while scanning the report. "Looks like he did a little of everything from divorce cases, to minor criminal charges to injury suits to child custody cases. And all for 'cheaper than those other guys' according to his business cards."

"So I'm wondering if this is a criminal who's out for revenge," Cam said. "Perhaps one of this guy's former clients?"

"While that is a reasonable assumption, there is no way to be sure," Brennan argued.

"But there is the dead cop," Booth countered. "Since we probably are dealing with the same guy, my guess is he's getting back at the people involved with his getting arrested and possibly sent to jail. He goes after the cop who arrested him and the lawyer who didn't get the job done, so to speak. We'll know more once we find a connection between these guys."

"Speaking of which, what about Doctor Sweets?" Cam inquired. "Wasn't he doing a profile for this case? And more importantly, how is he holding up after yesterday?"

"He seemed….really shaken, but ok when I saw him yesterday," Booth sighed. "Well at least, as ok as can be expected. Bones and I have a therapy session with him today, so we'll see how he's doing then along with checking on the progress of the profile."

Just then Brennan's cell phone chirped and she answered it. After some brief words, she hung up and looked over at Booth, concern in her eyes.

"Booth, that was Sweets' secretary," she said. "She told me that he's canceled our appointment today and that he's not seeing anyone." Booth ground his jaw in frustration and leapt up from the couch. Brennan saved what she was working on and followed him as he left her office.

"Where are we going?" she asked him.

"To Sweets' office," the agent growled. "He's not going to start avoiding us now."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Next chapter. A little shorter, but the next one will be longer, I promise. ;)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. *sigh*

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Buttercups3**: Thank you so much for the review. :D I'll admit that I've been mulling over the plot to this one for a long time, but I had a feeling that you would see where I was going with it. I hope the rest of it works out. And I hope that you still enjoy this somewhat short chapter.

**LaNina15**: Thanks. ;) I like to keep things as in character and as close to canon as possible. As for your request...enjoy this chapter. ;)

**Peanutmeg**: And thank you for all your reviews. :D I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**JonasBROgirl8816**: Thanks. I hope you enjoy this latest update.

**Ladykale1985**: And thank you for all the reviews of my work. :) I appreciate your loyalty. :)

**ValykirieRevolution**: I'm with you there. I also enjoy Protective Booth. :D You can be sure that there will be more of it in this story...

**Mendenbar**: You are very right about Andrew: he relishes the sort of control that he can exert over Sweets and will not be satisfied with just tire slashing. As for the rest of it...hmmmm...;)

**Stephaniew**: Thank you! :D You're right that things like what Sweets had been through have long-reaching impact on his life, despite his efforts to move past them. And yes, the serial killer case will unfold along with the rest of it.

**Fear Herself**: Thanks for the review, but I don't think that you'll enjoy the end of this chapter too much. ;) And you're so right...this story will get a lot darker, so I'm glad that I have THotF to change things up sometimes.

**Fearlee**: Thanks. :) I try to tie all of my stories together as much as I can. Plus I just really enjoy the characters of David and Carolyn Sweets, so expect to see more of them in my work...

**ZeroVInfinity:** Wow, thanks for the compliment. :D I know that I try to follow canon as much as possible, so it's very flattering to me when someone views my work as anywhere near canon...As for David sounding like Connery..well he's supposed to have a distant German background, but I think that he probably does have a deep, majestic voice like that...I hope you enjoy the rest of my work.

**RememberTheLegacy**: Yeah, I knew that people who also read my The Heart of the Family story would develop suspicions first. ;) I hope you enjoy the rest of it...And trust me, you're not the first reader who wanted Andrew dead. ;)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 4

Sweets sat in his office, trying his hardest to focus on the latest profile that he was working out. Over the past day or so, he had made a lot of progress in his profiling assignments. He knew that at the rate he was going, he would be done with the ones on his desk by tomorrow, barring any follow up meetings with the agents who requested his profiles to go over the particulars.

The psychologist leaned back in his office chair and frowned. He knew that he should try to keep the rest of his appointments with his patients for the week starting tomorrow. In fact, he had felt less than satisfied with his job over the last couple of days since he was only focusing on half of it. But Andrew's reappearance brought many of his insecurities to the forefront of his mind.

'_How can I help these people if I'm too scared to sleep? What kind of therapist can't ease his own nightmares?'_

Sweets sighed and moved back closer to his desk. He decided that work was the better option over mulling over those kinds of questions. So he turned his attention back toward the evidence files stacked beside him. While looking over his desk, the psychologist noticed that Booth's latest case needed to be attended to.

'_I should get to that one right away,' _Sweets thought. _'The last thing I need is for Booth to think that I can't do my job.'_

After all, today Sweets had a very hard time believing in himself; he dreaded the thought that the people who were important to him could stop believing in him as well.

* * *

Booth marched with purpose through the halls of the FBI's Hoover Building. The agent barely acknowledged the greetings from his co-workers and continued in his brisk pace with Brennan continuing to quicken her pace to keep up with him. Once they reached the elevator, Booth jammed his thumb against the button several times.

"Booth, while I have not studied the mechanics of elevators, I have noticed that pushing the button repeatedly does not seem to expedite its arrival," Brennan said.

Booth gave her a look and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted when the elevator made its trademark 'ding' and its doors opened. Thankfully, there was no one on the elevator and there was no one else waiting to use it. So they were able to get right on and enjoy a private ride to the floor where Sweets' office was located.

Once the doors shut and the elevator started to move, Booth let out a frustrated gust of air and Brennan turned to him.

"If Doctor Sweets does not want to see us, why are we going to his office?" she asked. "After all, he did not seem to want us to get involved with his problems and I presume that you told Jensen to leave him alone."

"Thing is Bones, people like Jensen aren't the type who are just going to go off on their merry way in situations like this," Booth responded. "I know. I've read his file."

"You did a background check on Sweets' father?" the anthropologist said. Booth shook his head.

"On his bio dad, Bones," he answered. "Not on his real father…And yeah, I did. This guy punched Sweets. Even if he doesn't want to press charges, it's still my job to ensure the safety of everyone on my team. I needed to know more about this jerk so that I could see how much of a threat he is."

The elevator made another sharp 'ping' and the doors opened back up. Booth and Brennan strode out into the hallways. The agent had slowed his pace so that he could continue to talk to her.

"Why do you and Doctor Sweets insist on not referring to Mr. Jensen as his father?" Brennan inquired. Booth suddenly stopped and turned to face her.

"Because he isn't, ok?" he said. "Sweets knows it too. That's why he refuses to call him that."

"While I agree that Sweets probably did not inherit anything from Jensen as far as traits like intelligence or compassion, the fact remains that he has inherited certain trace physical markers from his father," Brennan explained. "Denying his biological heritage does not make it any less of the truth."

"Look Bones…" Booth sighed and fidgeted for a bit before continuing.

"There's more to being a father than the stuff you've mentioned," he said. "I know because I have a son myself. There's a lot involved with raising a boy to be a man." The two of them resumed walking down the corridors.

"It takes a lot of love, guidance and strength," Booth added. "It's a commitment. A bond that never really ends. That psychopath Jensen…he's not capable of any of that. Sweets' father is the man who was willing to go to court and fight to adopt him, who took out a restraining order on Jensen in order to protect him and who made the commitment to take care of him for all those years." Brennan considered his words for a moment.

"Is that like how you refer to Hank as 'Pops'?" she asked him. "Because he did more to raise you than your actual father did?" Booth flinched, but then nodded.

"Yeah it's a lot like that," he said. "But in Sweets' case even more so, ok?"

"I understand," Brennan answered. "But if Sweets does not see Jensen as his father, why doesn't he want you to arrest him?" Booth sighed and shook his head again.

"Because there's still that little part of him who remembers when Jensen was the only dad who he knew and that's….a hard thing to stop being afraid of," he said grimly. "Unfortunately, I know something about that too."

Brennan didn't say anything to that, knowing that Booth didn't really want a response anyway. As they drew closer to Sweets' office, one of the junior agents approached Booth.

"Agent Booth," the man said. "Did Doctor Sweets tell you about what happened to him last night?"

* * *

The keys of Sweets' keyboard clattered away as he typed. After a couple of mugs of coffee, the psychologist was able to muster up enough jittery energy to plunge back into his work and was almost finished with yet another report.

But his train of thought was interrupted by Booth and Brennan barging into his office. Sweets rubbed his eyes as he tried to hide his annoyance.

"Hey Sweets, what's the meaning of canceling our therapy session today?" the agent asked as he threw himself down onto the couch. Sweets swiveled his chair toward them.

"I…I had a lot of work to catch up on," he said. "Besides I figured that you wouldn't mind missing a therapy session." He turned back to his desk.

'_Besides you two are usually desperate to escape them as soon as possible anyway,'_ Sweets thought to himself.

"I don't really mind and I suspect that Booth doesn't either," Brennan said as she settled in beside the agent on the couch.

"Bones!" Booth hissed.

"But we came anyway because Booth is concerned with how you are doing," she continued. Sweets hung his head and with a couple of clicks of keys, he saved the report he was working on. He then got up and sat down in his usual chair.

"I'm _fine_. You don't need to keep checking in on me, Agent Booth."

"Maybe I wouldn't need to do it if you were more honest with us," Booth growled. "I happened to notice that your car was missing today. Having car issues?"

"Yes," Sweets sputtered. "It just wouldn't start today when I got up, so I took the subway instead."

"Nice try, Sweets, but I bumped into someone who was working late last night on the way to your office," the agent said. "He said that he saw your car get towed while he was leaving. So…what happened?"

Sweets sank in his chair. He knew that there was no avoiding this; it would do no good to lie now.

"My tires were slashed," he said dejectedly. "I…I'm pretty sure Andrew did it." Booth's eyes lit up with anger instantly.

"And you kept this from me because…?" the agent asked.

"Look, he probably just did it because he was upset that he didn't find me here," Sweets shot back. "He got his point across…I'm sure that that will be the end of it."

"That's not the issue here, Sweets," Booth said through gritted teeth. "The issue is that he knew which car was yours. Who knows what else he's found out about you?" Booth yanked out his cell phone and began to dial a number.

"What are you doing?" Sweets protested. "I said that I don't want to press charges."

"Even so, I'm still going to track down his whereabouts," Booth answered. "Nothing's stopping me from keeping tabs on him. Including you."

With that the agent leapt up from the couch and walked out of the office with his phone on his ear, closing the door behind him. Sweets went back to staring at the carpet, shaking very slightly while his face was beginning to turn crimson.

"Doctor Sweets?"

The psychologist looked up to see Brennan still there, watching him.

"I think it would be prudent to let Booth do this," she said. "It is clear that your biological father is a determined criminal with no good intentions toward you. Plus Booth has a lot of experience in dealing with people like that and I'm sure he's correct in thinking that Jensen is a dangerous person."

"Believe me…I know he is," Sweets mumbled, shaking his head. "It's…it's just that…"

"I believe that I told you about my experiences in El Salvador, correct?" she asked. Sweets looked shaken by the question.

"Yes…you mentioned that you were kidnapped and threatened for your work there," he said cautiously.

"While I was being held captive, I tried to asses my situation as rationally as I could so that I could continue to be aware of the best methods to ensure my survival. Still…" Brennan took a deep breath and looked a way for a second. But then she quickly fixed her gaze back to the therapist.

"Still, despite my best efforts, there were a couple of times that I felt intense fear," she said. "Not so much of dying…but of what could be done to me before my death."

"There's nothing rational about fear," Sweets nodded. "But it is a very human response and it certainly does not diminish you or your courage in that situation."

"But if that's true, then why don't you admit your fear in this situation?" Brennan countered. "Booth says that you are not trying to shield Jensen because you care about him, but partially because you're afraid. Do you think that your fear diminishes you? Because I do not see why it would any more for you than it would have me."

Sweets fell back against his chair. He was startled by his words.

But was also immensely grateful for them.

* * *

Booth had eventually returned and mentioned that Jensen would be found soon. In an attempt to change topics, Sweets asked Booth for a ride to pick up his car in a couple of hours after he finished his latest report. Booth agreed and the two of them left Sweets alone for a while.

When they returned, Sweets decided to take the rest of the day off and go home early. After arriving at the garage, Booth and Brennan offered to take Sweets out for dinner, but he declined, citing exhaustion. While driving back to his apartment, Sweets stopped by one of his favorite Chinese places and picked up some take-out for dinner that night. He ended up getting back to his place by late evening.

He trembled, however, when he reached his key over to the door and saw that the lock was damaged and that the door was slightly ajar. Numbly, he swung the door the rest of the way open and flipped the light switch that was near the doorway. When he saw the room with the lights on, Sweets dropped his bag of food to the ground, tears leaking out of his eyes.

'_He's been here….it's only a matter of time now before he gets to me…'_


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Next chapter...things will start to come to a head now...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. :D

**Ladykale1985**: I agree and I'm sure you'll see how soon it will be by the end of this chapter...

**Peanutmeg**: I hope this was fast enough. :D Enjoy the latest chapter.

**Fear Herself**: Sadly, things will be much worse before they are better. :( And I'm glad you enjoyed the conversation with Brennan...I love the idea of them bonding. :)

**RememberTheLegacy**: Don't worry, people have been calling for Andrew's head for quite a while now, so I'm not surprised at the hatred. ;) Hopefully this will ease some of your boredom.

**Sweetfavoritethings**: See what I mean about people wanting Andrew dead? ;) Thank you again for the reviews and I hope to catch up on more of your work soon.

**Buttercups3**: I agree that Andrew is relishing this sort of slow torture, starting with Sweets' mental state. And you're right, Sweets is not thinking clearly as a result...As the story progresses, there will be more "stepping up" from Booth and the Jeffersonian gang...Andrew has no idea about the types of friends that Sweets has. ;)

**YunLuffsPandas**: Thank you! :) Sweets is my favorite too (if that wasn't obvious from my fics). I hope you enjoy the rest of this story.

**Fearlee**: And thank you for your reviews as well. :D Things are quickly escalating for Andrew and as you will see, it only gets worse...

**Mendenbar**: I agree, but unfortunately Sweets is not thinking very clearly right now. Andrew tends to create a large blind spot in his thinking...But I think you will see in upcoming chapters that Sweets has grown from the boy who petrified of his biological father. It just takes some time for him to find his courage...And you're also right, I imagine that dealing with Sweets' past gives some reflection to Booth and Brennan's pasts as well. Thank you again for the review. :)

**JonasBROgirl8816**: It always makes me smile to see another person grow into Sweets fandom. ;) I'm glad that you've enjoyed the fic thus far and hope you like this chapter as well.

**Cocoaheart**: Thank you! :D I'm flattered that you've enjoyed all my work. I appreciate this review and hope you will enjoy my future fics as well...And yes, poor baby duck indeed as Wyatt would say. ;)

The Measure of the Spirit—chapter 5

Sweets ended up spending most of the night attending to his apartment before he was able to drag himself to his bed. After setting his alarm so that he would only sleep for about three hours, he laid down and stared at his walls while still trying to process the events of the day.

After he saw the disarray that his front room was in, the psychologist walked swiftly back toward his car and called the local authorities and his landlord along the way. They arrived at few minutes later and Sweets reported the break in. From what he could tell nothing was missing, but he promised the officers to let them know if he did discover that something was taken. Sweets doubted he would find anything though; he knew that this was not about money.

His super promised was able to rig up a temporary lock for the door and promised Sweets that a new lock would be installed while he was gone. After they all left, Sweets stood there and assessed the damage again.

His couch and his chairs were broken; the upholstery was ripped up and shredded. His coffee table, stands and small dining table were smashed into splinters. His television and stereo shattered. Even his plates and glasses were laying in pieces on his kitchen floor.

The destruction of his furniture brought some fresh wetness to his eyes; a lot of it had come from his childhood home which he had sold after his parents passed away. But Andrew had destroyed all of it.

As Sweets lie in bed, he did feel somewhat grateful that Andrew had not touched his bed or the things that were in his closet like his clothes and more importantly the large trunk that he stored in the back. That trunk contained Sweets' most precious mementos from his years growing up: photo albums, special papers and certificates, and a variety of other small objects that held meaning to him.

But one thing that depressed him greatly was the fact that Andrew had smashed several picture frames that he had sitting out and tore up the pictures inside of them. They were pictures of him and his family: his parents, his cousin Peter, of family outings they did together. Now they were lying in a heap of torn bits on his kitchen counter. Even though Sweets had gone ahead and cleaned up all of the smaller debris and made plans to have the ruined furniture hauled away, he found that he just couldn't bear to part with those scraps of photographs.

'_It's not like I have the negatives…I can't replace them,'_ he thought.

By the time Sweets was done cleaning up his apartment the best he could it was very early in the a.m. hours. He never did get to his take-out food and decided to just leave it in the fridge for an early morning snack or maybe a late-dinner after work. Instead of eating, he decided to catch a little sleep before facing the day.

Once asleep, he began to dream. Thankfully it wasn't a nightmare, but instead another memory from his childhood with his beloved parents.

* * *

_It was four weeks after his adoption hearing and Lance was still struggling to quell the fear that Andrew had brought forth. That day, David had tried taking him to a nearby park since he was worried about how reluctant Lance was to go outside. He had hoped that the outing would be fun for the two of them and would alleviate some of his son's fear. _

_But the trip had proven to be a disaster. Lance refused to stray more than a few inches from his father's side at all times. He was jittery and nervous, jumping at every loud sound and at every raised voice. He cowered whenever strangers approached them. After a short while, Lance was tearfully begging David to take him home. David's expression grew grim, but he relented and silently drove his son home. _

_The minute he got there, Lance ran inside, kicked off his shoes, and ran upstairs to his room. He threw himself onto his bed and began to sob while burying his face in his pillow. After a few moments of pitiful weeping, Lance heard his bedroom door open and felt someone sit down beside him on the bed. Lance lifted his head to see his mother, Carolyn sitting there, her gentle grey-blue eyes full of concern. _

'_Lance, baby, what's wrong?' she said. 'Why are you crying?' Lance sat up and scooted close to her. _

'_Dad…Dad's upset with me, isn't he?' he blubbered. 'Because I got so scared at the park?' Carolyn reached over and enveloped her son into her arms and began to rock him slightly._

'_No, baby, no,' she soothed. 'He's not mad at you. He's just worried is all. We both are. We just want you to be happy and to be able to lead a normal life outside of your home.' His mother then kissed his temple._

'_We know that you're afraid, but you cannot live in fear forever,' she murmured. 'You're only seven years old; you've got your whole life ahead of you. You'll miss out on too many wonderful things if you hide yourself away.' Lance tightened his grip on her._

"_I…I don't want to be scared anymore…I don't,' he said. 'But I…I can't stop.' Carolyn nodded and took her son's hands into hers. _

'_Tell me Lance, what is the thing that you are most afraid of?' She felt Lance tremble in her arms, but she persisted. _

'_It's all right. You can tell me,' she continued. 'Nothing bad will happen.' Lance sniffled, his tears finally starting to abate, before he spoke. _

'_I...I'm scared that you and Dad will go away, and I'll be all alone,' he choked out. 'My birth dad said that no one would ever love me and when he wasn't….hurting me, he left me all alone. And the foster families, they would always send me back to the orphanage, and I'd be alone again.' He snuggled closer to Carolyn._

'_I don't want to be alone anymore,' he pleaded. _

_Suddenly Carolyn pulled him back to face her. As she stared into his deep brown eyes, she smiled at him._

'_Then you have nothing to be afraid of,' she assured him. 'You will never be alone because we will always be with you. Even if we are not physically present, a part of us will be inside you. Inside your heart.' Carolyn began to stroke his hair. _

'_And then as you grow and more people come into your life and into your heart, they will become a part of you as well. So you'll never be alone Lance.'_

_The two of them looked up to see David walking into the room to join them. When he saw Lance's red-rimmed eyes and nose, he frowned and immediately joined them on the bed._

'_Hey now sport, what's the matter?' he said softly. Lance rubbed his eyes and shook his head._

'_Nothing,' he mumbled. 'Hey…Dad?'_

'_What is it, Lance?'_

'_Can…can we go back to the park tomorrow?' Lance asked. 'I want to try again.' David grinned and gave a strong embrace of his own to his son._

'_Of course we can sport,' he said. 'We will try as many times as it takes. I promise.'_

_

* * *

_Sweets jerked awake at the sound of his alarm clock buzzing. He rolled over to shut it off and then laid back down to stare at the ceiling.

'_Mom…Dad…I'm sorry. You were right…I'm not alone.'_

He then sat up and gazed at the warm orange yellow hue that the sun was creating in its ascent to the sky.

'_I'm not alone….and I can't handle this like I am anymore.'_

_

* * *

_At the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal lab, Doctor Brennan was standing in the ooky room, contemplating the skeleton laid out in front of her. The skull was missing; Angela needing it for her facial reconstruction. Brennan walked back and forth while staring at the remains of the latest victim, noting numerous traumas to the bones. There were fractures in the ulna and radius of both arms, along many ribs and even deeper fractures to the femur of the right leg.

'_She was beaten…severely,'_ she thought to herself. _'Probably struck numerous times with a weapon.'_ Brennan began to theorize about the type of weapon used when Booth walked in.

"Hey Bones…so what have you figured about this one?" he said, waving a hand over the table.

"Well the victim was female…late 40s to early 50s," the anthropologist responded. "And from what I can tell she was struck multiple times with some kind of pole-like weapon before she died. Most likely metal judging from the severity of the fractures, though we will know more when Hodgins finishes his examinations of the scrapings he took."

"Was that cause of death?" Booth frowned. "The beating?"

"No…It looks like she was strangled," Brennan said. "Her hyoid bone was badly fractured."

"But I thought you said that the victim suffered the same injury as the others?" Booth asked. "Some kind of wound to the back of the head?"

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "It turns out those wounds are from a single gunshot to the back of the head. That was cause of death for the other two victims, but this victim was already dead when she was shot. Judging from the angle of the entry wound, she was lying face down on the ground when she was shot."

"So…he beat her, strangled her and then shot her in the head?" the agent said, looking back down at the bones.

"It would appear so, yes," Brennan answered. "It was challenging to piece the skull back together due to the level of damage, but I was able to make it so that Angela could do a facial reconstruction."

Booth shook his head; he was disgusted at the level of savagery that had been involved in this woman's death.

'_Almost as if he enjoyed it.'_

Booth wasn't sure where that thought came from, but now that it was there, it seemed to fit. He thought back to when he had visited the lab yesterday and had thumbed through a lab report from Clark, who was in rotation that week as Brennan's assistant. The agent had read about how Clark was unable to find any signs of defensive wounds on the previous two corpses. Booth figured that the same would be true for this woman here.

'_They couldn't even fight back…They were helpless,'_ he thought to himself.

"Hey, toxicology report came back," Cam said, walking into the room. She handed her file over to Booth before continuing.

"All three victims had ketamine in their systems," the pathologist continued.

"Ketamine?" Brennan responded. "Isn't that mainly used in veterinary medicine?"

"Yes, but it also has been sold as a street drug," Booth said looking over the file.

"Ketamine can be used as a strong muscle relaxant as well as an anesthetic," Cam added.

"Which explains why there was a lack of defensive wounds from the victims," Brennan said. "They were unable to move due to the ketamine in their systems."

"Hey guys?"

They all turned to see a worried-looking Angela in the doorway.

"There's something you all _really_ need to see," the artist said.

* * *

Back at the Hoover Building, Sweets had settled in for one last day of just profiling before going back to his patients tomorrow. He started to work on Booth's case at last, figuring that once he had it done, he could give it to Booth and then tell him about what happened at his apartment last night.

On the way in, his secretary had given him some files with the latest forensic evidence on all three victims along with the identities and backgrounds of the first two. After settling in at his desk, he read through the file of Nathan Sanders and began to form some ideas based on this and everything else he had seen so far.

But when he opened up the file of the second victim, they psychologist froze. He looked at the picture and read the name three times, but the result was the same each time.

Sweets remembered this person from his past.

'_Oh God…it's him…it has to be…'_

Sweets sank from his chair onto the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest.

His worst fears were coming to light…and now that he knew the truth behind Booth's case, Sweets was terrified.

* * *

Cam, Brennan, and Booth had followed Angela back to her office where she had some information up on her computer screens.

"So I finished up the facial reconstruction from the latest victim and ran it through my facial recognition software," Angela began as she picked up a small touch-pad that she used to control her computer.

"And I was able to find her identity pretty fast since it turns out she has a record for petty theft and drug possession," she continued.

"A circus worker?" Cam read, squinting at the screen. "That doesn't seem to fit with the other two victims."

"Wait until you see her face," Angela added. With a couple of light strokes to her touch-pad, she brought up a photo, and everyone but her gasped.

"That's…that's..." Cam said. "Not possible."

"Actually it is very possible," Brennan interjected. "The genetic markers are quite distinct and undeniable."

Booth stared at the picture on the screen in shocked silence; he didn't need to be a scientist to see the resemblance the others were referring to. As he looked at the photo, all of the other facts in the case thus far began to sink in and fall into place; however, the conclusion forming in his mind was a disturbing one.

"Come on, Bones," he said yanking his cell phone out of his pocket. "We need to go now." As he dialed he swiftly left the room. Brennan followed him with a confused look on his face until she listened to the conversation the agent was having.

"This is Booth, is Doctor Sweets in his office?...Good, make sure that he stays there….No, he's not to leave the building. In fact, put an agent on his door and don't let anyone in until I get there."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Next chapter. I see a lot of you have long since figured out where I'm going. ;) Well I hope to surprise you some more throughout the course of this fic...And thank you again for all the response to this story. I really appreciate it. :D

Also, this chapter makes a reference to my other story The Narrow of the Margin which this is supposed to be a sequel to, so be forewarned there...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**YunLuffsPandas**: Yep, now that Booth and the rest of the Jeffersonian gang knows what's going on, things will get more interesting...;)

**Peanutmeg**: And thank you for the review as always...unfornately Sweets does not know about his birth mother yet...but that will change in this chapter...

**LivesInTheNow**: Thank you! :) I had a feeling that many of my readers would catch on, but was hoping that they would still enjoy it...there's a lot more to come...

**Seletua**: And thank you...and no problem about the reviews. I know that you've been following my work for a while, so I'm very flattered by that. :) And don't worry...I have many more stories up my sleeve that I just haven't started yet...

**Sweetfavoritethings**: Yeah, I was a little worried that this would be a little too popular of an idea (Sweets' bio dad coming back) but I'm glad that so many of you are enjoying it...Yes, I enjoy writing young Sweets after spending so much time with THotF. ;) I imagine you are feeling what David and Carolyn felt when they saw him. ;)...And I have a feeling that there will be a mob ready for a hanging before this is through...

**Buttercups3**: I knew that you would enjoy more of the Sweets in this story. ;) Again, expect a lot of them as time goes on...And you're right, Booth does a great job as the protector of his duckling...Again, sorry about your piano...I hope that an update will help take you mind off it for a little bit at least...

**Mendenbar**: You nailed Andrew exactly. It was the exact same stance that he took in THotF during Lance's adoption hearing and he has not grown since then...As you will see, Sweets does make an effort to move forward, but may still need some guidance along the way...As for your other comment: keep watching...;)

**Fearlee**: Thanks for the review. :) Even though Sweets tries to pass himself off as someone who's not too attached to things, I suspect that there is some of that kind of sentiment when it comes to his parents...And no, Sweets did not know about Lillian in the previous chapter...but that will change now...

**Fear Herself**: I had a feeling that some might not have guessed that it was Lillian...I hope this update was fast enough. ;)

**Cobalt6233**: Yes, the years have definitely not made Andrew any kinder. His goal is the same as ever: to punish and abuse the boy he thinks of as his "property"...Thanks as always for all the reviews...

**Ladykale1985**: I know I tend toward the cliffhangers. ;) But I hope you enjoy this update as well. :)

**RememberTheLegacy**: Yep, you are probably guessing right on the latest victim...here's another chapter to help with that boredom. ;) And feel free to join the "Andrew Hunting" posse that I'm sure is forming. ;)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 6

Booth needed have worried too much about Sweets going anywhere. The psychologist had finally moved himself over to the chair that he occupied while conducting therapy sessions and was now diligently writing into a small notepad. He had spent several minutes huddled on the floor, trying to contain his fear and had suddenly made the decision that he needed to try to remain as clinical and detached as he could about the case in order to stay sane.

'_Andrew is another criminal to be profiled…so I have to be a profiler now…it's as simple as that,'_ he had thought to himself.

That led to him sitting there now, looking through the files and taking notes along the way. After he was done with that he began writing even more detailed notes based off his training and his memories of Andrew which were seared into his brain. Many times he wanted to let go and begin to weep again, but he used every bit of his training to stop himself from that.

'_No…I can't lose it now…I have to stay on task so Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan can catch Andrew and make him pay for his crimes.'_

Sweets thought back to Ronald Anders, the person who as it turned out was the first victim. The psychologist remembered him as this slimy person who made his life miserable when he represented Andrew against his parents. Even though it had been years, Sweets knew that he would never forget how Anders had made him cry as he twisted his words around. The words of a seven-year-old boy who was terrified of the person sitting a few feet away in the courtroom.

Sweets sighed and paused in his writing. He couldn't really bring himself to say that he was sorry to see him gone. Anders had been a greedy, self-centered individual who cared little how his work affected others. But Sweets could not pass off Anders' violent death and Andrew's reappearance as mere coincidence. Thus his need to write up these notes.

As he continued he also thought about Nathan Sanders. While he didn't remember him, it had been easy to look up him and his record in the FBI database, and then Sweets was able to confirm what he already knew.

He then glanced over at the file of the as of yet unidentified woman whose remains were currently at the Jeffersonian. The psychologist knew that whoever this was, she had some sort of connection with his past.

It was the reason that Sweets dreaded finding out who she was.

* * *

A few minutes later, Booth and Brennan walked up to the door of Sweets' office and found an agent standing nearby. She had been sent over by Hacker, at Booth's request and she nodded in recognition at him in their approach.

"Agent Booth," she said moving aside. "He's in there now, and he hasn't left since you called."

"Thank you Agent Coel," Booth said. "Be sure not to leave this post until I say otherwise."

"Understood," Coel nodded and continued to stand off to the side. Booth then turned to Brennan.

"Look Bones, let me do the talking here ok?" he said. "I think I should be the one who tells him what's going on."

"Ok Booth," Brennan answered.

"Ok…right then," Booth said, taking a deep breath. He was not looking forward to the task in front of him. While he knew that it was never easy to tell someone the kinds of things he would have to tell Sweets, Booth felt uneasy about dealing with the possible emotional fallout that his conversation could bring. He cared for Sweets and wanted to protect him, but he didn't always know how to handle the therapist's emotions.

Steeling himself, he opened the door and found Sweets sitting in his usual chair with a neutral expression. Almost as if he was expecting them. He rose as he saw the two of them walk in.

"Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan," he said without a trace of emotion in his voice. Booth and Brennan looked at each other for a moment and then walked the rest of the way into the room and closed the door behind them. The three of them then sat down and Booth took a stack of files from his office that he was carrying under his arm and sat them in his lap. No one said anything until Booth leaned forward toward the psychologist.

"Sweets…I need you to listen to me…and don't interrupt me until I'm done, the agent said, his voice quiet but firm. Sweets nodded and Booth was further concerned about the eerie calm that Sweets gave off. Booth then picked up a file and opened it so that it faced the therapist.

"Nathan Sanders, retired cop," Booth began. "A good but unremarkable record. Then one day in 1990 he accompanied Social Services on a call and ended up arresting a man who had left a boy bleeding in a locked closet after beating him with a whip."

There was a flicker of pain in Sweets' eye, but it was quickly extinguished. Booth set that file down and opened up another.

"Ronald Anders, lawyer," he continued. "He had a reputation as a mediocre attorney who barely passed the bar. Despite that, he had some minor success in his practice. But one case that he failed at completely was from 1992 when he represented a man who was trying to prevent the adoption of his son by a couple who had been taking care of the boy for about a year. The judge allowed the adoption and the man went back to prison." Booth then put that file next to the other one on the coffee table in front of him and frowned at how Sweets still showed little reaction.

"And now…the latest victim," the agent said hesitantly. "A traveling psychic from Florida, Lillian Place. In 1992, she willingly signed over her parental rights to a couple looking to adopt her son. In fact, she even sent a letter with the form she signed in which she expressed her wishes that her son never be allowed to live with his biological father."

After Booth placed that file down, Sweets picked it up with a trembling hand. He then sat it in his lap and stared at the photograph of Lillian inside.

"These people all have only two things in common," Booth added. "Andrew Jensen…and you."

Sweets continued to stare at the file in his lap and remained silent for a few minutes. Booth sat back against the couch and waited for him to speak. The psychologist finally looked up, his eyes still devoid of feeling.

"Andrew came to my apartment yesterday," he droned. "He broke in and trashed it. I reported it to the local authorities, but I imagine that it would be best to let the FBI techs look over it again, even though I did clean up the place as best as I could."

Booth narrowed his eyes as Sweets' words, but said nothing. Ordinarily, he would have been upset with the way that the therapist persisted in trying to keep things from him, but right now he was too concerned with how tightly controlled Sweets was acting. The psychologist then put down the file and handed Booth a notebook. The agent opened it up to flip through it and found that it was filled with notes in Sweets' neat handwriting.

"Andrew is killing everyone who was involved with his going to prison and with my getting adopted," Sweets continued in the same clinical tone. "It's only a matter of time before he turns his sights to me. Everything he's done was to make me aware of that fact."

"Sweets…you can't work on this case anymore," Booth said softly. "You're a potential target."

"I know," Sweets said. "That's why I gave you that notebook. I know that it can't be used to gain evidence, but it's my statement about what I know about Andrew: the type of person he is, the type of criminal and the kinds of patterns and behaviors you should watch out for…Hopefully you will be able to get some use out of it." He then sank into his chair and looked at the floor.

"Also, you should find out about the whereabouts of Lauren MacArthur, my old caseworker at Social Services and Terry Nigel, who was the lawyer who represented me and my parents at my adoption hearing," he continued. "If…if Andrew hasn't gotten to them yet, they could still be in danger."

"Ok, I'll do that," Booth said, writing the names down in the margin of first page of the notebook Sweets gave him. The agent then rose to his feet and Brennan and Sweets followed suit.

"Look…Sweets…I'm sorry," Booth said. "About your birth mom…and all of this…"

"It's ok," the psychologist said shaking his head. "Lillian and I were not even remotely close." He kept his gaze fixed on the carpet and Booth shifted about nervously.

"No it's not ok, all right Sweets?" he said. "But…it will be. I promise…Now first off, we will need to put you in protective custody. For the moment, it's best that you just stay in your office since we have an agent on your door. I'll have something more long-term arranged for you in a couple hours."

"All right…I'll stay," Sweets said in a voice that was way too calm for Booth's comfort. Sweets then sat down and watched Booth and Brennan.

"I'll be back later," Booth assured him. "Just sit tight…we're going to get him, ok?"

"Sure," Sweets nodded again. Booth watched him for another moment before edging for the door.

"All right then…let's go Bones."

Brennan started to walk out the door, but stopped to turn back and face the psychologist.

"Doctor Sweets…my team is swiftly gathering evidence together from all three victims," she said. "Since you know about the superior skill level of everyone at the lab, you can be assured that Jensen will not get away with these murders or with anything that he has done to you."

"Thank you Doctor Brennan," Sweets said with a slight smile on his face. She smiled back and then exited the room with Booth. As the door was being closed, Sweets could hear Booth give instructions to the agent outside and he slouched down into the chair. He then looked back down at the picture of Lillian that seemed to look up at him from the coffee table. He found that he couldn't look away from the rich chocolate eyes that mirrored his own.

'_It makes sense that Andrew went after her,'_ he thought_. 'He hated her…for years he said that he hated her...'_

Soon Sweets' eyes were clouded with tears. Frustrated, he tried to blink them away.

'_Why am I crying? Lillian wasn't my mother…She wasn't…Carolyn was my mother, not her…Lillian never wanted me…'_

'_But she didn't wish any ill for me either….she let me go…'_

'_She didn't deserve to die…especially not like that…'_

'_What does Andrew have planned for me?'_

Sweets found that he could no longer hold back his feelings and began to cry. He wept for a woman who he never really knew.

And for his own past and for an impending future which seemed impossible to escape.

* * *

Sometime later, Booth was sitting in his office, scowling while looking over the papers on his desk.

Earlier he had been on the phone with the agents who had been assigned with the task of finding Andrew Jensen. Booth alerted them to the fact that Jensen was now a murder suspect and they informed him that they were pretty sure that they had found where he was staying in DC, but that they hadn't spotted the man himself yet. After telling them to keep him informed, Booth hung up and reported the current situation to Hacker. After listening to Booth, Hacker agreed that Sweets should be guarded and put Booth in charge of his protection. Finally, Booth got the search going for Lauren MacArthur and Terry Nigel and gave his team instructions to have both women put under guard until he could interview them.

As he was finishing that last phone call, Brennan, who had been sitting in Booth's office, received a call from the lab and was currently talking to Cam about the latest findings. While she did that, Booth brooded over his files and notes on the case.

"The plant matter and insect remains that Hodgins found were a mix of species native to the area that the remains were found and of ones that were not," Brennan said as she hung up her phone and placed it back in her pocket.

"So some of it was from where they were actually killed?" Booth asked.

"It would appear so," Brennan responded. "Hodgins is still working up a list of areas where that combination of plants and insects can be found."

"It's probably not too far from the dump site," Booth mused. "No one wants to have a body in their car for too long…He's probably got some place that's in the middle of nowhere…secluded so that he can take his time killing them." The agent then fell silent again. Brennan observed his somber expression and became concerned.

"Booth, what is it?" she said.

"It's Sweets," he mumbled. "The way he was acting when I told him all that…it's not right."

"He did say that he didn't share a bond with his biological mother," Brennan said. "If so, I imagine that he would not have very strong feelings about her death."

"No…not Sweets," Booth said shaking his head. "That's not like him at all. Remember how upset he got when he saw a total stranger get killed in that subway accident he was in? Then when that woman who was standing next to him got shot in the Michael Connor case?" Booth stood up and put his suit jacket back on.

"No…something like this…it would affect him even more," he continued. "But instead he's acting like a robot."

"Perhaps Sweets is using the techniques that he seems to cling to in psychology to help him rationalize the situation," Brennan offered. "For example, the two of you seemed to think that I would suffer some sort of breakdown during the trial for my father, but I was fine."

"But that's you Bones," Booth said. "And while there's nothing wrong with that it's just….That's not how Sweets is."

"I should get back to the lab to see if I can gain anything else from the remains," Brennan said.

"I'll drop you by there, but first we need to make another stop," Booth said as the two of them walked out of his office. "We need some help to deal with Sweets…and I know just who to ask."

* * *

After several miles of weaving in and out of busy DC traffic, Booth pulled his SUV up to his destination: the parking lot of a fine dining restaurant. Once parked, Booth and Brennan walked in and after giving their names to the maître d', they were ushered into the kitchen.

There, the head chef was waiting for them with an open bottle of wine sitting on the table beside him.

"Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan," Wyatt greeted them. "And to what fortuitous set of circumstances do I owe the pleasure of your company today?"


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Sorry for the recent delays. Here's the next chapter.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. *sigh* ;)

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Buttercups3**: Yeah, I couldn't resist having Wyatt enter this story at some point. He's my favorite side character. :D And I agree with your ideas about Sweets is feeling right now, as you will see...as for how to take care of Andrew...we'll just have to see how the story plays out. ;P

**Stephaniew**: Thanks, I was hoping that people enjoyed the pacing and character development I had for Sweets in this. It's probably one of the most extreme situations he will face, so I expect that he would be going through a lot of mixed reactions.

**YunLuffsPandas**: Maybe you should join the Andrew Hunting posse that **RememberTheLegacy** is forming? ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**Peanutmeg**: Thank you for the review. As for Sweets...I don't think he will be able to keep his feelings to himself forever...

**Mendenbar**: I do answer your question about Wyatt in this chapter...And yes, even though he was not close to Lillian, I'd expect Sweets to have strong feelings about her death in this manner. And I agree that Sweets looks up to Wyatt as more than just an experienced colleague. It's part of the reason I used some of his character traits when creating the character of David Stephen Sweets.

**RandyKorn**: Thank you! :D I'm glad you enjoyed it thus far despite seeing where I was going. I hope you will enjoy the rest of it as well.

**RememberTheLegacy**: Thank you for the review. It's very flattering for any author to know that the characters inspire that kind of feeling, so I really appreciate your comments...And I think your posse is going to grow in size as this continues so you may need to consider a variety of options to off Andrew. ;)

**Ladykale1985**, **JonasBROgirl8816**, **LivesInTheNow**: Thank you for your reviews. I also enjoy Wyatt and I hope this update came soon enough.

**SweetFavoriteThings**: Thank you. :) I had a feeling it would make things easier if I did a little recap there, so I'm glad that you appreciated it. And I agree with you that Sweets is sensitive to things despite all the darkness he's been exposed to...And you're right: Brennan cares for him, even if she doesn't always act that way. ;)

**Fear Herself**: And thank you as well. I'm always trying to capture the fun and sweet dynamic I've noticed between Booth and Sweets on the show, so I'm pleased you liked it. Enjoy this chapter too. :D

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 7

Back at the Hoover building, Sweets had finally gotten a hold of himself and stopped crying, even though his feelings were still fragile. He had tried to leave his office to get a drink of water, but found himself blocked by Agent Coel.

"Doctor Sweets if there is anything you need, we can have it brought to your office," she said icily. "But until Agent Booth gets back, you are not allowed to leave unless absolutely necessary."

After a few minutes, Sweets was able to persuade her that a visit to the restroom was "absolutely necessary" and she relented. However, she accompanied him every step of the way and gave him the barest minimum of privacy while he used the facilities. She then made sure that he went directly back to his office and shut the door as soon as Sweets was inside.

Sweets then proceeded to lie down on the floor and stare at the ceiling in an attempt to center his thoughts.

'_How many people has Andrew hurt on this quest of his?'_

The thought had suddenly popped into Sweets' brain, and once there, it refused to leave.

'_All these people…dead…because of me. Because Andrew hates me so much…'_

The psychologist shivered and hoped again that Booth would find his biological father soon. Even without all the training he had received in the pathology of criminals like Andrew, Sweets knew that his birth father would not stop until he was caught, killed or until he got what he wanted, which was revenge against him.

But while he considered that, the therapist began to worry about how much Andrew's violence had escalated. Jensen had moved on from destroying objects and abusing people in his fits of rage into murder. Plus, Sweets knew that these were not crimes of passion despite how the injuries looked, but were the result of cold calculation on Andrew's part. The psychologist was sure that that Jensen would be willing to kill anyone who tried to stop him on his mission; he wouldn't just limit himself to those who had "wronged" him somehow.

'_What if…what if he hurts someone while he's trying to get to me?'_ Sweets thought. _'It could be one of the agents assigned to protect me or…'_

Sweets couldn't bring himself to dwell on the possibility that someone close to him like Booth, Brennan or anyone else at the Jeffersonian could be harmed or even killed on his account. Instead, he steeled himself with a new decision.

'_I won't let any of my friends get hurt for me. I won't let it come to that…even if I have to give Andrew what he wants.'_

_

* * *

_Meanwhile, Chef Wyatt sipped his wine as Booth related the recent events to him. The former psychiatrist had known that there was something urgent on the agent's mind when he got the word from his maître d' that Booth called from his car and was coming over. He had hoped that it was to report some sort of breakthrough in his relationship with the lovely Doctor Brennan. But when the two of them arrived together, he doubted that was the case. While listening to the details of the situation, Wyatt felt his heart ache for his former colleague.

He had first heard of Doctor Sweets as a rising wunderkind in his field while he was still working for the FBI. He had been flattered and intrigued when this prodigy had contacted him requesting that he look over his latest manuscript and for a consult. While reading the book, Wyatt couldn't help but be impressed by the level of sophistication of thought and insight that was present in the author's work. He was also warmed by the obvious affection that the youthful doctor had for his two patients.

But as he kept reading, Wyatt became concerned over the darker undertones behind the words and was worried about the emotional state of the psychologist.

Any fears that he may have had about Booth and Brennan being cared for quickly vanished after meeting Sweets and seeing how he interacted with them. The psychologist was indeed brilliant, but he was also caring and committed to his work. Instead Wyatt became concerned about how much of a toll Sweets' bottling up of his feelings was taking on his soul. The lad was doing an exemplary job of making others his top priority, but Wyatt worried that it was at too high a cost.

Once he saw how much Booth and Brennan reciprocated Sweets' affection, Wyatt knew that he needed to intervene and alert them to how much their young therapist really needed them. It was an unorthodox arrangement, but one that the former psychiatrist was sure would go a long way toward helping the three of them heal from the cruelties life had dealt them.

Besides Gordon Gordon Wyatt never did believe in staying inside the lines when the situation called for a different approach.

Listening to Booth go over the current case with him, Wyatt was confident he had made the right decision. But he shared Booth's concerns about the behavior that Sweets was exhibiting.

"I mean it's just not like him," Booth insisted. "Sweets has never been the type to just shrug this sort of thing off."

"I still think you are overreacting," Brennan countered. "Doctor Sweets knows that he has nothing to worry about since you have him in protective custody and my staff at the Jeffersonian will soon gather enough evidence to convict Jensen of his crimes."

"Yes," Wyatt interjected while shifting his gaze back to the agent. "And how is that investigation going Agent Booth? Will you be off for much of the foreseeable future gathering clues and interrogating people?"

"The Bureau called me on the way here," Booth answered. "Ms. Nigel, Sweets' old lawyer, died a few years ago from heart failure, so no worries there. But Mrs. MacArthur, his old caseworker, is still alive and a couple of agents are bringing her here. I'm going to talk to her to see if I can get any more leads into what Jensen's next move might be."

"Oh, tell Chef Wyatt about the notebook Sweets gave you," Brennan added. "It's supposed to give you some leads too."

"Thank you Doctor Brennan," Wyatt said, beaming at the use of his proper title. "And what is this about a notebook?"

"Yeah, that was a little creepy too," Booth muttered as he pulled it out of his pocket. "He gave me this saying that it had notes about everything he knew about Jensen. It's…it's like he profiled his own assailant."

Booth slid it across the table and Wyatt began to flip through it.

"Very impressive," he murmured. "Would you mind terribly if I had a chance to look over this? To see what I can 'dig up' so to speak?"

"Go right ahead," Booth said. "But…Gordon Gordon, what do we do in the meantime about Sweets?" Wyatt sighed and shook his head.

"I'm afraid our young Doctor Sweets is struggling to find some way to deal with these events that are clearly plaguing him," he answered. "I'm sure his methods are working for him…for the most part. But I would strongly urge caution in your dealings with him. Specifically, he should not be left alone right now."

"But he isn't," Brennan said. "Booth has arranged it so that an agent is with him at all times."

"An excellent precaution on his part," Wyatt smiled. "But I had something a little more personal in mind." The chef leaned back in his chair and shared meaningful glances with each of them before speaking again.

"Tell me Doctor Brennan, how would you rate the security of the laboratory that you are so frequently ensconced in?"

* * *

A knock on the door made Sweets jerk himself awake and sit up. He had actually begun to drowse off due to the stress he was under and his exhaustion. The psychologist pulled himself to his feet as a second knock sounded and the door opened. Instead of Agent Coel, a woman with medium length blond hair and sparkling eyes walked in.

"Agent Perotta," Sweets said congenially. Secretly, he was relieved to see Perotta and hoped that she was here to replace Coel.

"Doctor Sweets," she smiled back at him. "Booth sent me here to take over in protecting you until he got off work. I'm to run you by your apartment to pick up a few things and then we're going to the Jeffersonian, where he will meet us."

"The Jeffersonian?" Sweets question, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yes," she answered. "The Medico-Legal lab is well guarded and they already have orders to keep Mr. Jensen out thanks to Doctor Saroyan. Doctor Brennan wanted me to tell you that you're welcome to stay in her office, but that you are to keep away from the forensic platform and the ooky rooms."

"Because I'm a potential victim," Sweets nodded. "I can't appear to be involved in the investigation in any way."

"Well except for the victim part, you are correct," Perotta beamed. "You're a potential witness is all. But I knew that you're a smarty-pants and would catch onto the rest of it."

Sweets did his best to muster up a smile in return. Over the course of working with her, he had grown to like Perotta and was grateful that she would be protecting him while Booth was busy elsewhere. He turned to his desk and prepared to leave.

While he gathered up papers and turned off his computers, Perotta watched the psychologist carefully. Booth hadn't given her all the details, but what she had learned disturbed her and she eagerly accepted the agent's request for her help. She had worked with Sweets a few other times since they first encountered each other while she filled in for Booth, and she found him to be an excellent profiler and a thoroughly pleasant person overall. That and the fact that Booth was willing to trust her with someone else who he seemed to care about inspired Perotta to put forth her best effort to protect him.

Suddenly the two of them heard footsteps approaching the door and the agent took a defensive stance by the entrance. Everyone quickly relaxed, however, when Angela and Hodgins burst through the doorway.

"Sweets," Angela said walking straight over to him with Hodgins close behind. "How are you doing?" She then took a deep breath and put her hand on his shoulders.

"I don't know if Brennan or Booth told you yet, but…" she said, hesitant. "But...I'm so sorry…I…"

"It's all right, Angela. Booth told me about Lillian," Sweets mumbled.

"Oh man, Sweets…if there is anything we can do, just tell us," Hodgins added.

"Thank you, Angela, Doctor Hodgins," the psychologist said while fidgeting. "But I'm fine. There's no need to…"

"No Sweets, you're not fine," Angela said, shaking her head. "You just found out that your biological father is killing people including your birth mother, and now he's after you. No one would be fine in those circumstances."

"I don't want to talk about it then," Sweets snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "How about that?" He then turned to Perotta.

"Shouldn't we get going?" he asked brusquely.

"Where are you taking him?" the artist asked.

"To his apartment and then to the Jeffersonian," Perotta answered. "Booth feels that he would be safer there."

"Well I'm going with you," Angela insisted.

"Miss Montenegro, Doctor Sweets will be safe in my custody," the agent sighed. "You don't have to worry about…"

"I don't care. I'm going," Angela said. "He shouldn't have to face this alone. Somebody should be there with him." Sweets hung his head and shifted about some more.

"Thanks Angela," he murmured. Angela smiled at him and began to rub circles in his back.

"You're welcome, sweetie," she said warmly. "And don't worry, we'll get through this. Booth will catch this creep, and he'll be locked away for the rest of his very unnatural life. I'm sure Caroline will see to that."

"I'm going to go back to the lab and see if the mass spec has turned anything new up," Hodgins said. Before leaving he turned back to the psychologist.

"Hey…I meant what I said earlier," the entomologist said, his voice gentle. "If you need to talk or want someone to listen…"

"I know," Sweets said in a low voice. "Thank you for that…really." Hodgins nodded and patted Sweets' shoulder a couple times before walking out.

"We should leave as well," Perotta said. "I want to be there when Booth is done with his errands."

* * *

The drive over to the apartment was a quiet one. Sweets opted to sit in the back and proceeded to stare out the window the entire time, his expression impassive. Perotta drove and Angela sat in the front seat. The two women kept looking back at the therapist, but he did not shift his gaze once or say a word.

Once they arrived, Perotta went first and pushed aside the yellow crime scene tape so they could walk in. At Booth's behest, a FBI forensics team had combed through Sweets apartment a couple of hours ago, but had only found a few fingerprints and some trace evidence that had been sent over to the Medico-Legal lab.

"I'll just be a few minutes," Sweets said, pushing past them and heading toward his bedroom. Perotta walked around and made sure the place was secure while Angela surveyed the damage done to Sweets' home.

The artist's eyes grew moist as she looked around the rooms. Although Sweets had cleaned up, the larger pieces of furniture had not been taken away yet and they lay in shambles. She walked into the kitchen and her eyes were drawn toward a pile of torn paper sitting in a neat pile on the counter. Angela began to sift through it and swiftly realized that there were family photographs that had been ripped up and she had a strong feeling that it wasn't Sweets who had done it.

She spotted a box of plastic bags on the counter and grabbed one. She then carefully scooped up all the photo scraps into the bag and stuffed it into her purse. Just as she was finishing up, Sweets came back out to join them.

He had changed out of his suit and into his argyle sweater and a pair of black slacks. In one hand he carried a suitcase and the other was dragging a large trunk that had been mounted on a pair of wheels at one end.

"I'm ready," he said.

"Sweets, what's with the trunk?" Perotta said, her tone light. "It's not like you're sailing off on a year-long cruise."

"Don't worry, I…I need to give this to someone who said they would store it for me," Sweets responded. "It will mainly be just this suitcase, I promise."

"Ok then," the agent said shaking her head. "Let's go."

The three of them then left the building, unaware that they were being watched at a distance.

'_So you got yourself a pair of women to protect you? Typical…But they can't keep you safe forever, Lance…I'll make sure of that.'_


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Ok, next chapter. This one will be a longer one...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. Natch.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It means a great deal to me. :D

**Peanutmeg**: Thanks! :) Leave it to Wyatt to figure out that Sweets really shouldn't be alone...As to the rest of it...keep reading. ;)

**Fearlee**: Sorry it couldn't be up sooner, but here's the next chapter...And you're right, Andrew is very dangerous...

**Buttercups3**: Consider this long chapter a back-to-school gift. :D Thank you for the reviews as always...As for how safe Sweets is now...stay tuned. ;)

**Fear Herself**: Thank you. Considering what you said in your review, I think you will enjoy this chapter as well. :D

**Sweetfavoritethings**: Yeah, you just knew Angela would try to do something to make Sweets feel better. :) As for the addition of Wyatt and Perotta in this fic...enjoy this chapter. :D

**Mendenbar**: Wow, flaying...I'm sure the Andrew Posse will keep your suggestion in mind...And it's sadly rather insidious side effect of his abuse that Sweets feels the need to blame himself for Andrew's actions. Fortunately, he has some people around him who can get him to see reason...Thank you again for your kind review. :D

**Stephaniew**: Thanks for the review. :) Unfortunately, I don't think the tension will be completely relieved at the end of this chapter, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. And thanks for your comments on how I handled the characters. I was hoping that they rang true for everyone.

**YunLuffsPandas**: Well I think you'll have no problem joining the Andrew Posse. It's a growing group accepting new members all the time. ;) I hope you enjoy this update as well.

**RememberTheLegacy**: I remember the days before I got my laptop, so I feel your pain for that missing computer...Hmmm, rusty garden tools. The Posse is going to have quite a selection of methods to choose from. ;)...Thank you for your comments on how I wrote Angela, and yes, Wyatt is awesome. :D...As to the fate of people like Perotta, Lauren and Sweets...stay tuned. :)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 8

Back at the Hoover Building, Booth and Brennan sat down across the table from Lauren MacArthur, who had just been escorted in by a pair of agents. Now in her late 60s, the former social worker's hair had turned completely white and her face was heavily lined. Still, her gray eyes were warm with humor and wit.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Agent Booth," she said nodding. "And I've read all of your books Doctor Brennan, so this is a great pleasure to meet you as well."

"Thank you," Brennan said.

"However, I'm not sure why I'm here," Lauren said. "The young men who brought me here said something about the FBI needing my help with one of their cases, but would not say any more. I mean, if it has something to do with my work in Social Services, I'm afraid I retired from that years ago."

"Actually this is about one of your old cases," Booth said as he got up and walked to a nearby stand. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water is fine, thank you," Lauren responded. "And what case are you talking about?"

"We were wondering if you remember anything about your case involving a boy named Lance Jensen," Brennan answered as Booth poured some water from a pitcher. "I know that it was number of years ago, but…"

Brennan stopped when she watched Lauren shudder violently. Booth sat the water in front of her, and Lauren took a long drink before answering.

"First of all….that boy's name is Lance Sweets," she insisted. "It was only by a cruel twist of fate that he was born into that household."

"So you do remember it," Booth said as he sat down.

"I'll never forget it," Lauren said, shaking her head. "I was there the night that he was taken out of his birth father's custody…That poor child, the things that monster did to him…No one should have to go through that."

"How well do you remember the boy's father, Andrew Jensen?" Booth asked.

"That man never had a right to called himself Lance's father," Lauren said. "And I didn't really know him that well. It was decided early on that eventual reunification was not in the boy's best interests, so I concentrated more on trying to find a new permanent home for Lance than I did on learning much about Andrew…Can I ask what this is about?"

"There has been a series of murders," Brennan answered. "The bodies were found in a forested area a few towns away from here."

"The victims were Nathan Sanders, the cop who arrested Jensen, Ronald Anders, the lawyer who represented Jensen at the adoption hearing and now, Lillian Place…" Booth said. He was interrupted by a gasp from Lauren.

"My God…Lillian was Lance's birth mother," she said. "Are…are you thinking Andrew did this?"

"The evidence is pointing in that direction," Brennan said. Lauren suddenly leaned forward in her chair, her eyes bright.

"Please…Agent Booth…If Andrew killed all those people including Lillian, he will go after Lance next. I just know it," she said. "Please, you have to find him and protect him."

"Doctor Sweets is currently under guard by agents of the FBI," Brennan said. "So there is no reason to worry."

"Wait…Doctor Sweets?" Lauren said tilting her head in confusion.

"Yes…Doctor Sweets is a FBI psychologist and profiler," Booth said. He watched as Lauren leaned back in her chair, a smile on her face. "You don't seem surprised by that?"

"No," she responded. "I knew that Lance was a special child while I was working on his case. With the kinds of gifts he has, I'm not shocked at all by his accomplishments."

"Mrs. MacArthur…"

"Please, call me Lauren."

"Lauren," Booth continued. "Because you were also involved with Jensen through your work with Doctor Sweets, we need to put you in protective custody. As a precaution."

"I understand and I appreciate the thought," Lauren said as she lifted her glass for another drink.

"But we also brought you here to see if you could remember anything about Jensen that could help us find him now," the agent said.

"Well I could look over my notes if you could get me access to the files," Lauren mused. "But I doubt that it will be much help to you. As I mentioned, I concentrated my energies on Lance and on finding him a suitable home."

"Which was probably difficult given the fact that the foster care system is ill-conceived and flawed on many levels," Brennan added.

"While the system may not be perfect, I can assure you that I took my responsibilities very seriously," Lauren said in a brittle tone. She then reached down into her purse and after digging around at its contents, she pulled out a photo and sat it in front of Brennan.

The anthropologist picked the picture up and looked at it thoughtfully. In it was a boy who was sitting between a couple with graying hair. Brennan deduced that the boy was Sweets as a child. He was being held by a man with rich emerald eyes and by a woman with sky-blue eyes. All three of them were smiling.

"Lance's case was one of the most heartbreaking ones I've ever been involved in," Lauren said. "But still, it was one of the happiest and most satisfying moments of my career when I placed him with Carolyn and David Sweets. Anyone could see that they belonged together as a family."

"I disagree," Brennan said. "The genetic markers such as hair and eye color are completely incompatible with…"

"I mean on a spiritual level," Lauren interrupted with a smile. "That picture does not do justice to how happy the three of them were together. The Sweets had longed for a son and Lance needed loving parents. It was an ideal match."

"I suppose that statistically such an outcome is bound to happen eventually with enough attempts," Brennan said, sliding the photo back to Lauren, who picked it up.

"I won't pretend that there aren't people and rules in place which shouldn't be," she said. "But for all its problems, the system has helped a tremendous number of children." Brennan sighed and rolled her eyes. Lauren looked as if she was going to say something else, but turned toward Booth instead.

"Agent Booth is there any chance that I could ask a favor from you?" she said. Booth nodded and Lauren leaned toward him again.

"Is there any way that I could see Lance?" she asked. "You see…I just moved back to this area recently. After my husband died, I moved away across country to stay with family. To cope, you understand? Well in the process, I lost touch with the Sweets and I haven't seen Lance since he was a boy…I'd just like to see how he has grown."

"Doctor Sweets is currently in protective custody," Booth said. "But…I will certainly see what we can do."

* * *

As soon as Perotta, Angela and Sweets arrived in the Medico-Legal lab, Angela left for her office saying that she had "important work" to do. The psychologist placed his suitcase and trunk off to the side in Brennan's office and plopped down onto her couch.

"Doctor Sweets, I'll be close by if you need anything," Perotta assured him as she walked out. Sweets nodded and laid down. He stretched out, hoping to relax for a little while. But after a time, he became even more agitated, so he got up and walked out of the office. He didn't get more than a couple feet away when Perotta appeared at his elbow.

"Going anywhere in particular?" she asked him cheerily.

"I'm just going up to the terrace to get some coffee," Sweets sighed. "Don't worry; I'm not going near any of the forensic platforms."

"I didn't think you'd forget that," the agent said. "Just remember that you are not allowed to leave the lab area either."

"Sure," he muttered as he trudged off.

Watching him walk away, Perotta finally lost the smile on her face. She could sense that the stress of the situation was getting to him, but could think of nothing she could do or say to help alleviate it. She decided that the best thing to do for now was to make sure that no physical harm came to him.

'_Best leave all the rest to Booth and the people around here,'_ she thought. _'They seem to do a good job at taking care of their own.'_

_

* * *

_A couple hours later, Sweets was still on his first mug of coffee. He occasionally would take a sip of the cold, bitter liquid when it occurred to him that it was the appropriate thing to do, but the rest of the time he just let the mug sit in his hands.

The psychologist had been absorbed in his own thoughts so much; he didn't notice the lack of company. He had glanced at the platforms down below at one point and instantly regretted it when he realized that one of the skeletons was Lillian. The rest of the time was spent in his own mind. But unlike other times in the past, this introspection was yielding him no useful results.

Suddenly, he heard the sounds of footsteps and looked up to see Doctor (now Chef) Wyatt ascending the stairwell. He was carrying a large, insulated tote in his arms, careful to keep it upright. Sweets got up from his chair and walked over to him.

"Doc...um I mean Chef Wyatt," he said. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise I can assure you, Doctor Sweets. Likewise," Wyatt said as he gingerly sat his burden down onto the large table that Sweets was sitting at. The two of them then shook hands before Sweets sat back down.

"And how are you holding up these days?" Wyatt asked as he opened up the tote. "I hear that you are in a particularly nasty predicament." With those words, Sweets face fell instantly.

"So…? What, did they send you here to give me some needed psychological insights?" Sweets said in a tone that was far more defensive than he had planned. "I'm too close to this case, and I can't think straight. Is that it? Or maybe they just think that I'm unstable, and I'm going to fly apart under the stress?"

Wyatt paused in his actions and watched as Sweets looked back down into his mug, eventually taking an angry swig from it. He hated seeing the young therapist so unnerved.

"Actually, I'm here to offer my services as a chef," he answered. With that, he pulled out a large stew pot out of the tote and sat it down next to Sweets. He then got out some bowls and spoons and after fishing out a ladle, he served the psychologist a helping of some stew before giving himself some and sitting down.

"I know this is rather simple, but sometimes it's the simplest, most fundamental things that do us the most good," Wyatt said.

Sweets shrugged his shoulders and started to eat. After a few bites, he had to admit that he was very grateful for the meal.

"This is…really, really good," Sweets said, finally looking up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome and thank you for that kind critique of my skills," Wyatt responded. "But as to the rest of your statements…"

Sweets gulped, but as he looked into Wyatt's eyes he realized that while they were stern, they were not unsympathetic.

"I'm not a psychiatrist anymore, I'm a chef," he said. "So any 'psychological insights' that I might come up with would not be nearly as valid as the ones I'm sure you could draw yourself. I'm merely acting as a chef…and I would like to think, as a friend."

"I'm sorry," Sweets murmured, looking back down at the table.

"Apology unnecessary, but graciously accepted," Wyatt said. "Now, as to your not being able to think straight…"

The chef then pulled out Sweets' notebook out of one of his pockets and placed it in front of him. Sweets flinched at the sight of it, but chose to remain silent for now.

"I've read through these observations that you provided for Agent Booth," he continued. "They are hardly the discordant ramblings of a person unable to maintain perspective under great pressure. On the contrary, you show uncanny insight into this loathsome person who you have the misfortune of sharing a biological tie with."

"But Agent Booth wasn't able to use any of it, was he?" Sweets said glumly. "That's why he gave it to you?"

"I actually asked him for it," Wyatt countered. "Booth had every intention of keeping it, but I requested it once I learned of its existence."

"Why?"

"So as to ease his burden," Wyatt answered. "He has a lot on his plate, you know? He's trying to solve a triple homicide as well as prevent the murder of one of his own. All that concern is slowly but surely taking its toll on him. I offered my assistance in analyzing this so that he could continue to pursue other equally worthwhile lines of inquiry thereby making his job easier."

Sweets squirmed in his seat. He had been so busy trying to shield everyone from his damaged emotional state; he hadn't taken the time to consider how all of this was affecting his friends and colleagues.

"As to your final question: would it be so terrible if Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan and the rest of this team did express concern for your well-being?" Wyatt asked gently. Sweets looked up again, surprised by the question.

"Through your guidance, care and insight, you've been working diligently to ameliorate the issues that surround their pasts and that hamper their present pursuits," the chef continued. "Is it not reasonable to assume that these good people would desire to give the same gift to you? Someone who is so close to them?"

Sweets swallowed hard and stared into his bowl as Wyatt served him another hearty portion of his stew.

"I propose that instead of being so concerned about your perceived professional standing, you acknowledge the position you and your friends are in and allow yourself and them the chance to help you in the best ways that they can," Wyatt added.

"I…I've been selfish," Sweets muttered, shaking his head. The chef pushed Sweets' bowl a little closer to him.

"No…I dare say you've been trying to be as unselfish as possible," Wyatt responded. "But now is the time to let others reveal that part of their nature to you." Sweets sighed and picked up his spoon.

"Thank you," the psychologist said. "You're…very good at what you do."

"You're more than welcome," Wyatt said warmly. The two of them ate in silence for a while longer before Sweets reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. He took one off his key ring and sat it next to the chef.

"Remember the lunch I had with you a couple of months ago?" Sweets asked. "Those requests I made?" Wyatt abruptly sat his spoon down and frowned.

"I do," he said picking up the key. "Is this…?"

"Yes," Sweets nodded. "It's for the trunk that I told you about. I have it here and it will be delivered to your house. I would really appreciate it if you would hold onto it for me. And I…well you probably remember what I want done with it…if things come to that."

Wyatt quickly became concerned. He remembered the conversation that he had with Sweets back then. It was when the young psychologist was in one of his darker moods and involved a set of three requests that Sweets made of the chef should anything tragic happen to him.

"I will honor your request, but Doctor Sweets, I think it's premature to venture into this sort of thinking," he said. "Agent Booth is one of the finest agents I've ever met and the lovely Doctor Brennan is a leader in her field. Perhaps you should exercise a little more faith in their ability to prevent the sort of thing you seem to be planning for."

"Please," Sweets begged. "I'm not trying to be morbid…I just…It would give me one less thing to think about."

"All right," Wyatt said, pocketing the key. "But do try to remain positive." Sweets nodded and stood up, his chair scraping along the floor.

"Thank you…for the meal and for what you said," he mumbled before leaving the chef alone.

Wyatt watched him walk away and sighed as he placed Sweets' notebook back into his pocket. He still had grave concerns about the way the therapist was acting. So he decided to go ahead and execute another one of Sweets' requests that he had agreed to during that lunch.

While it was true that Sweets didn't ask him to do it now and had not asked for it to be carried out this way, Wyatt was certain that it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long. Real Life has been getting in the way again. *sigh*

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you as always to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. I appreciate you sticking with me. :)

**Lives in the now**: Thanks. I've grown to love writing for Wyatt, so expect to see more of him. :)

**Buttercups3**: Thanks as always for all the reviews and support...Yes there will be more for Lauren to do in this story, and perhaps Brennan can gain something from her...As for what Wyatt is doing next, all will be revealed in time...:D

**Fearlee**: Well I'm sorry that I didn't update sooner, but hopefully you will enjoy the chapter anyway...A lot of people are wondering about what Sweets asked of Wyatt, and all I'm saying is that you'll be finding out soon.

**Peanutmeg**: And thanks for the reviews as always. :D I'm hoping that you won't have to wait long to find out more about what Sweets said to Wyatt during that lunch...

**Ladykale1985**: You read my mind...I think you will enjoy this chapter. :)

**Cobalt6233**: Yeah, I think a lot of us could use an insightful friend like Wyatt in our lives...Thanks for the reviews.

**Fear Herself**: I will say that the reunion will happen...you'll just have to wait and see how it goes. :) And I agree that Wyatt and Sweets make an awesome team. Here's to hoping that they get to team up again in Season Six.

**Amdelodder**: Thanks, I hope you enjoy the rest of this as well...even if it is coming out a little slowly right now.

**RememberTheLegacy**: Sorry about that, but no, that conversation has not appeared in any of my work yet. It will appear here eventually though. And by the way, you have some pretty intense friends...at this rate I doubt there will be anything left after this posse gets done with him.

**TimeWitch93**: Yep, I'm back with another Sweets epic besides THotF. :D Hopefully you will enjoy this one as well.

**AbandonMorality**: Well I didn't update quickly, but hopefully it was soon enough...And yes, I will reveal those requests in time. :D

**Black Forests**: Thank you. :D I've been a fan of fanfic for years and one of my favorite genres is angst. But you're right that too many people go overboard with it and ignore the psychology and characterization. I try to inject what I've learned as a writer and as a psych student into my work, so I'm glad that you are enjoying it. :D

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 9

Upon arriving at the Jeffersonian, Brennan immediately headed off to the ooky room so that she could go over any recent findings with Clark. Booth started to follow her, but was stopped when his cell phone rang. As he answered it, Cam walked over to him.

"Booth...What? How did this happen?" he barked into the phone. The pathologist watched him and noticed how tight he was clenching his jaw as he listened.

"No…no, excuses," Booth growled. "Just find him and call me the minute you do." The agent hung up and jammed the phone back into his pocket.

"What is it?" Cam asked.

"They lost him," Booth scowled. "That hotel they were staking out? Turns out that Jensen had cleared out of their yesterday, and he paid the desk clerk to keep his mouth shut. So now we don't know where he is."

Cam shook her head; at this moment, she was grateful that Sweets was wandering the halls of the Jeffersonian. Booth began to pace in front of her.

"Have you guys narrowed down where these bodies were before being taken to the dump site?" the agent asked.

"Unfortunately no," she answered. "Hodgins said that the combination of plants and insects particulates are too common to isolate to one specific area. We're trying to see if the soil samples themselves will yield any clues."

"Found something else that might be of interest," Hodgins said, appearing with another file in hand. "There was some residue on the latest victim's clothes. It's methylamphetamine. Not a whole lot of it, but enough to be noticeable under the mass spec."

"Tox screen didn't show any signs of meth usage in the victim," Cam said. "So it's probably from Jensen. He could be using meth."

"So…he's a psycho who is getting addicted to meth?" the entomologist said. "This just keeps getting worse."

"But it could be a break for us," Booth interrupted. "If he's tweaking, then he probably has a supplier. No way is he cooking this up on his own. In fact, he's probably getting the ketamine from the same place. If we can track down his dealer, we might be able to get a lead."

"Agent Booth."

They all turned to see Perotta walking toward them.

"How is he? Did you get him here ok?" Booth asked as she approached them.

"He's fine," Perotta answered. "He seems really agitated, but otherwise well."

"Booth, he can't stay here all night," Cam said. "Where is he going to go where he can sleep tonight and be safe from that maniac?"

Booth sighed and shook his head. It had been clear for a while that this ordeal was taking its toll on Sweets, and this news wasn't going to make things any easier. After the debacle from some of his fellow agents today, he was reluctant to put the psychologist into any sort of safe house unless he could be there to help keep guard.

"I should get back to the office," Perotta said.

"Ok, when you get there, let Hacker know that I'll be updating him later on the situation," Booth nodded. "And is there any way you could do us another favor?"

"Name it," Perotta said.

"It looks like Jensen may have started using meth recently," he said. "More than likely he has a supplier who has also been selling him ketamine. Could you see if there's any way to track down the dealer?"

"I'm on it," Perotta said, turning on her heel to leave.

"And…thanks," Booth added. Perotta looked back at him and gave a half-smile.

"It's no problem…I want to stop this guy too before he gets to Doctor Sweets," she responded. "He…he's a really good profiler and shrink. The Bureau's lucky to have him."

She then turned and swiftly left so that she could get started on her assignment. Booth started to walk away as well.

"I'm going to see if Bones or any of the other squints were able to figure anything out," he said as he left. Cam nodded and walked down the corridor toward her office.

Along the way, she could see that Sweets was back in Brennan's office, sitting on the couch alone, staring at the walls. Concerned, she decided to stop so that she could see how he was doing.

"Doctor Sweets?" she said as she opened the door. Sweets turned to her and while his expression was neutral, Cam could see the haunted look in his eyes.

"Doctor Saroyan," he said rising to his feet as she came in. "I'm sorry…I was just thinking." The two of them sat down together on the couch.

"It's all right. I'm sure you have a lot to think about right now," the pathologist said, watching him closely. Sweets fidgeted under her gaze.

"Um…are you making any progress on the case?" he asked. "Any closer to finding my…to finding him?"

"Sweets, you know I can't discuss that with you," Cam said shaking her head.

"Oh of course, of course," the therapist mumbled. "I don't know what I was thinking in asking you that. Sorry."

"But you know we're going to catch him, right?" Cam said. "We're going to make sure that he pays for everything he did."

"Thank you for that," he said continuing to fiddle with a loose thread on the couch cushion.

"Sweets…can I ask you something?" she said, hesitant. Sweets nodded in response and Cam took a deep breath.

"Doctor Brennan…she mentioned that you were adopted as a child," she said. "Did you…? I mean how long were you…?"

Cam sighed and looked downward; she was clearly uncomfortable with prying, but hoped that the psychologist would answer her. Sweets considered Wyatt's recent advice to him and sat back up so that he could look her in the eye.

"I was five years old when Social Services took me away from Andrew," he said quietly. "He…he had always been really abusive…ever since I could remember. That night…well Doctor Brennan probably also mentioned the scars on my back…"

"Sweets, you don't have to…"

"It's ok," the psychologist blurted out. He took another deep breath, and Cam patted his arm.

"And the people who adopted you?" she inquired softly.

"Mom and Dad took me in when I was six," he answered. "They adopted me formally a year after that. Mom and Dad did everything they could to take care of me and give me a good life. They…they were the best parents a person could ever ask for."

"Were?" Cam said, her eyes growing sad.

"My parents were already in their fifties when they adopted me," Sweets answered, his voice catching. "They died within weeks of each other right before I started my practice at the Bureau."

"I am so sorry Sweets," Cam said. "Do you have any other family?"

"Not really much. Just a cousin," he answered. "He's a great guy…I guess he's like the brother I never had….But I don't get to see him very often because of his work. He's in the Army, and he travels a lot." He suddenly stopped and shook his head.

"I'm sorry…I'm sure you're really busy with this case, and I'm keeping you," the psychologist said. He got up and walked over to the other side of the room. "I shouldn't take up any more of your time." Cam got up and walked over to him.

"Sweets…I know that we all usually go to you for these sorts of problems, but that doesn't mean that you can't talk to us when something's bothering you," she said. "This kind of thing…it would be difficult for any of us to handle. And all I'm saying is that you shouldn't feel like you have to shut yourself away."

There were a couple moments of awkward silence, but then suddenly Sweets reached over and grabbed Cam for a tight embrace, much like the one he had given her after she had given him advice about Daisy. This time, however, Cam accepted the hug and held him back. She was dismayed to feel his shoulders shaking slightly.

"It's going to be ok," Cam said, trying her best to be soothing. She could feel Sweets nod his head and heard him sniffle. After about a minute, he let her go.

"Thank you…Doctor Saroyan," he mumbled while backing away from her. "Please…please excuse me. I need a moment alone."

With that, he turned and left her alone in the office. The pathologist shook her head as she watched him walk away.

She could tell that he was scared and she couldn't blame him one bit for that. After all, she was scared for him.

* * *

After talking for a few minutes with Brennan and finding out nothing new, Booth decided to find Sweets. He walked around the lab and eventually found him sitting on one of the stairwells that overlooked the forensic platforms. The psychologist was watching all the activity around him silently.

"You ok, Sweets?" the agent asked him. The therapist seemed startled by the question, but quickly recovered.

"I'm fine," he said in a clipped tone.

"Uh-huh," Booth said. It was clear that he didn't believe Sweets, but he chose to say nothing for the moment.

"Well grab your things," the agent said. "You're staying with me in my apartment tonight."

"Agent Booth, I appreciate the offer. I really do. But you don't have to…"

"Our agents lost Jensen," Booth said, taking a step closer to him. "They're in the process of finding him, but until they do, you are not leaving my sight. Understand?" Sweets gulped, but showed no other signs of distress at the news.

"I understand," he said. "I'll go get my suitcase."

* * *

A couple hours later, Sweets had settled into Booth's apartment and was sitting on the couch, watching the agent channel surf. Booth flipped through the channels rapidly, only stopping occasionally to watch a few minutes of some game and then moving on again. As a result, Sweets lost focus and his thoughts began to drift.

"Something on your mind?"

Booth's sudden question snapped the psychologist out of his reverie, and he jumped a little. He looked over to see the agent giving him a thoughtful look.

"No..I, uh…Thank you, for letting me stay here," Sweets stammered.

"No problem," Booth nodded, looking back at the TV. Sweets thought the conversation was going to end there, but then Booth turned off the TV and moved to join him on the couch.

"Look Sweets. I know you're scared," he said, causing the therapist to flinch. "But you know what: you should be scared. You've got some psycho, who's already killed at least three people, gunning for you." The agent stopped and shifted around so that he could face Sweets.

"Remember what I told you before?" he said. "After the Connor case? It's when you stop being afraid in situations where your life is threatened that you should worry."

Sweets began to breathe hard, trying to swallow down the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. Booth became nervous at the way the psychologist was acting, but didn't move away. Instead he patted his shoulder.

"Hey…all I'm saying is that it's ok to be afraid," he said.

"You won't be able to stop him," Sweets suddenly said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Not unless you kill him."

"What? Jensen?" Booth said, shocked at Sweets' words. "I told you; we'll get him. By the time we find him, Bones will have enough to put him away for…"

"No!" Sweets protested, finally looking up. "You don't understand. Andrew…he's been wanting to do this for years. He won't stop. Not until…until…"

"Sweets?" Booth said, his concern growing. The therapist shook his head violently, and his breathing continued to be shallow.

"He won't stop until he finishes what he tried to do twenty years ago: kill me," he said. "He…he told me that he would do it someday when I was seven, and my parents were in the process of adopting me. He meant it. I knew it then, and I'm sure of it now." He looked over at Booth, his eyes widened in terror.

"Honestly, I don't know why he waited this long or why he chose to do something now," Sweets said. "But I know that he won't stop, and he's going to get me….unless someone kills him first."

Ashamed of the torrent of emotion that he had just displayed in front of Booth, Sweets buried his face in his hands.

'_God…what did I just do? How is Booth ever going to be able to take me seriously as his therapist after this? For that matter, how are any of them?'_

Sweets continued to torture himself with these thoughts until he felt a hand grip his shoulder firmly, but gently. He looked up at Booth with watery eyes and was surprised to see empathy in the agent's expression.

"Sweets…the reason Jensen stayed away for so long is because he's a coward," Booth said. "Your father…he was able to keep him away because he was a stronger man than Jensen ever was, and Jensen knew it."

The agent then got up and walked over to a nearby cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of scotch and a pair of glasses. He then sat back down and poured both of them a drink.

"The reason I know this is…" Booth stopped and took a swig from his glass before continuing.

"The reason I know is because that's how it was with Pops…and my father," he said. Booth then finished the rest of his drink in one hard swallow.

"Booth…I…"

"Pops thinks that I don't know," Booth interrupted, staring at the wall opposite to them. "But I do…I know that he threw my father…his own son…out of the house because he was hitting me. He told him to never come back….and he didn't. He never did…And it was because my Pops was more of a man than he ever was."

Sweets nodded, holding his drink absently in his hands. Booth slouched down into the couch and rubbed his eyes.

"That had to have been the hardest thing Pops ever did," he said, solemnly. "I mean, how do you look at your own son and handle the fact that…that he's…?"

"The same way a child can handle looking at his father and realizing that he's not the person he has to grow up to be," Sweets murmured. Booth sighed and shook his head.

"Booth…you are not your father any more than your Pops was not his son," the therapist continued. "The fact that you turned out the way you did…becoming a hero and a protector of others….proves that neither you nor your Pops are a reflection of your father."

"Perhaps," Booth said thoughtfully. "But perhaps that is what you should be telling yourself too." The agent turned to look at Sweets again.

"You're nothing like Jensen…you probably never were," he said. "I'm sure your father knew it too. And you should ask yourself what your father…your true father…would be telling you to do right now." Sweets finally picked up his glass and downed his drink in one go. He then started coughing and gasping the minute he was finished, and Booth patted him on the back a couple times while he got a hold of himself.

"He…he would tell me to fight…to not let my fear control me," Sweets choked out.

"And that's exactly what you should do," Booth said. "But listen…you don't have to do this alone. Me, Bones, Angela, Hodgins, Cam…we're all in this too. We won't just stand by and let this bastard get to you."

For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Sweets' face lit up with a warm grin.

"Thank you Booth," he said. But just as suddenly, he started frowning again.

"Booth…Andrew may be a coward, but he's still a psychopath," the psychologist added. "If what you told me earlier about him using meth now is true, he's going to become even more enraged and unhinged. Please…be careful."

"Don't worry Sweets," Booth said, flashing his trademark "cocky" grin. "It's just a matter of time until I nail this creep to a wall. Trust me, he's not going to get the chance to hurt anyone else…and that includes you."

He then noticed Sweets' drooping eyelids and sagging posture, so Booth nudged him in the arm.

"Come on, let's get some sleep," the agent said. "I don't need you nodding off all day tomorrow."

"Sure," Sweets yawned, lying down to stretch out on the couch. Booth threw him a blanket and then started to walk toward his bedroom.

"Good night," Sweets called after him.

"Night," Booth said as he walked away. Once in his room, the agent brooded for a little while after lying down on his bed. He felt uneasy at the thought of Jensen being out there and knew that he would be sleeping lightly tonight.

* * *

Across the street from Booth's apartment, a lone figure watched the lights in the windows go out, one by one. After they were all out, the man's hands clenched into fists and shook.

'_Just you wait, Fed…You can't keep an eye on him forever…You'll make a mistake…And then nothing will stop me from giving Lance everything he deserves.'_


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Ok next chapter. I'm thrilled to be updating at a faster pace these days, and I'm going to apologize in advance for the cliffhanger. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. This is just a hobby, I swear. :)

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**YunLuffsPandas**: Yeah, Andrew has a way of showing up, even when he's unwanted. Enjoy this latest chapter.

**Lives in the now**: Thank you. I love writing scenes between Sweets and Booth and am always striving to make them feel authentic. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**D**: It's almost as if Wyatt never really walked away from nurturing people. He's just found another way to do it. Time will tell if Sweets continues to heed his words.

**TimeWitch93**: A lot of people are calling for Andrew's blood. ;) We'll just have to wait and see if they get their wish...

**Bookwormie123**: Thanks for the review. Hopefully this is a fast enough update, and I promise to try to update again soon.

**Fear Herself**: Thanks for the reviews as always. :D Things will be picking up even more in the next couple of chapters...

**JonasBROgirl8816**: How's this for soon? ;) Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter too.

**Super Ario**: I agree, Wyatt and Sweets together is television gold. :) And you are correct in guessing that this is just the beginning. I never believe in keeping things short, so there's a lot more to come. Thanks for all the reviews.

**ScotFree**: That's actually one of the tamer requests I've had for Andrew. I think that compared to what others have suggested, Brennan shooting him in the leg will be a welcome relief for Jensen. :) Thanks for reviewing.

**Fearlee:** The secret to Andrew's methods and Sweets' requests of Wyatt will be revealed in due course. Enjoy having updates to both this and THotF this week. :)

**SweetFavoriteThings:** No, I haven't seen Boston Public, but in the last couple of months I did get to see every episode of Freaks and Geeks. JFD's Sam Weir reminded me a lot of how I pictured Sweets as a kid in THotF. :) And I'm glad you enjoyed the comparison between Booth's and Sweets' upbringings...they have more in common than they may realize...

**Buttercups3**: Yeah, I think that there's going to be a lot of cheering when Andrew faces his inevitable downfall. :) I'm glad the chapter had a good "Bones-feel" to you. I try to picture the scenes in my head while I'm writing, so I'm happy that it works for my readers. Enjoy this nice **long** update. :D

**Peanutmeg**: No problem, college has conspired to take up a lot of my spare time, so I understand the feeling. Thanks for all the support. :)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 10

The next morning Booth stumbled out of his room and was greeted by an equally bleary-eyed Sweets, who was pouring some coffee into a pair of mugs. The agent couldn't help but notice how young Sweets looked in his attire of a black turtleneck and a pair of jeans.

"Sweets," Booth nodded, picking up a mug. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little," the psychologist shrugged. Booth figured from his appearance that "no sleep" was probably closer to the truth. But the sound of his cell phone going off prevented any further conversation in that area. The agent walked back to his room and picked up his phone which was laying on his night stand.

"Booth," he answered while walking back toward the kitchen. He listened in silence for a couple minutes and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good. Hold him there until I arrive," he said. "No...I want to talk to this guy myself. Uh-huh…I'll be there in a few minutes. Send Agent Coel to the Jeffersonian. Yeah, thanks." Booth then hung up his phone and finished his coffee in one gulp.

"Perotta just picked up a guy who she's pretty sure is the dealer who's been selling Jensen the ketamine and meth," Booth said in response to Sweets' questioning look. "She's got him in the interrogation room now so I'm dropping you off at the Jeffersonian when I go to pick up Bones. Agent Coel will keep an eye on you until I'm done with him."

"Any word on finding...on finding him, yet?" the psychologist asked.

"No, but hopefully this guy will give us some new leads," Booth said. "Besides, I'm sure we'll find him soon enough."

* * *

After leaving Sweets at the Medico-Legal lab, Booth and Brennan headed over to the FBI building. Once there, the agent picked up a file that Perotta had sent to his desk, and he flipped through it on his way to the interrogation room.

"So this guy is Leonard Browder," Booth said, thumbing through the paperwork. "Looks like he's only been arrested for dealing and possession before now. Nothing violent, but if he's convicted again, he's looking at some serious jail time."

"Ah," Brennan smiled. "So you're going to use those potential charges to get him to rat Jensen up?"

"Rat him out, Bones," Booth responded. "And yeah I am. We need to find Jensen…fast."

* * *

Perotta went over the details of the dealer's arrest with Booth before leaving on an errand at Booth's request. Booth and Brennan then went to talk to Browder.

The dealer sat at a table and kept tapping his fingers against the wood, clearly agitated. He was a thin, nervous man who would not keep his gaze on any one place for very long. The sound of the door opening and people walking in made him jerk backwards in his chair, and he didn't seem to calm down once he saw who was walking in.

"I want a lawyer," Browder sputtered as Booth and Brennan sat down across from him. The agent nodded and opened up the file he had carried in onto the table.

"Well that's certainly your right Mr. Browder," Booth said. "But before we starting making calls, perhaps you should know more about the reality of your situation."

"What situation?" Browder snorted. "So that blond agent picked me up for having some meth. Why is it the FBI's concern?"

Booth pulled out some photos that he had stuffed into the file before the interview and laid them out in front of Browder.

"What's this?" the dealer gulped.

"These are dead bodies," the agent replied. "And all of these people were killed by the same person."

"What does that have to do with me?" Browder whined. "I didn't kill anyone."

"All of these victims had traces of ketamine in their remains," Brennan added, tapping her fingertip onto the photos. "The latest victim also had traces of methylamphetamine on her clothing. Our lab is comparing the chemical composition of that with the meth that you were in possession of."

"If there's an exact match, I'm sure we can convince a jury that you are either an accessory to a triple homicide or at the very least a witness," Booth finished. "So my question is: do you want to lawyer up and let us charge you with possession, dealing and in connection to these homicides or do you want to cooperate with us and maybe we could possibly overlook those drug charges?"

Browder was twitching violently by this point all while trying hard to not look at the gruesome crime scene photos.

"Look…you don't understand," he finally said. "I didn't really want to do business with the guy, but I didn't have a choice…He's…crazy."

"We need a name," Booth insisted.

"Jensesn. Andrew Jensen. That's who you're looking for, isn't it?" Browder said. He shook his head and wiped his brow which had become moist. "He's the only person I know who I could see doing this." Browder looked down at the floor and took s couple breaths before continuing.

"He first came to me about a year ago…Initially, he'd just buy a little stuff here and there. You know, for recreational use. Then I find out that he's pretty good at shaking down clients who were less than forthcoming with the payment for their goods. So I let him do a little work on the side for me. It was all good. I mean he even managed to send a few well paying clients my way." Booth nodded as he listened to the dealer's story.

"Then about six months later, something happened," Browder said, pulling at his shirt collar. "I don't know what. But whatever it was, it made him snap. He shows up one day, wanting a gun, and he's got this look in his eye…let's just say that I knew better than to piss him off. I gave him the gun, and then he wanted some special k."

"He wanted a breakfast cereal?" Brennan said furrowing her brow.

"Ketamine, Bones," Booth whispered, and the anthropologist nodded in understanding.

"I mean I was kind of surprised that he asked for it. It wasn't his usual type of thing, you know?" Browder said. "But again, I knew better than to ask any questions."

"When did you last see Mr. Jensen?" Booth inquired.

"Um…a week, maybe a week and a half ago," Browder answered. "He…he was really over the edge. Kept telling me that he has some kind of 'unfinished business'. He said that if I didn't give him what I wanted that I'd end up like the others…Then he showed me Danny's wallet."

"Who's Danny?" the agent asked him.

"Uh…Danny…Dan Barlow," the dealer responded. "He…he was one of my chemics. He had gone missing a couple days ago, and Andrew assured me that I wouldn't be seeing him alive ever again…So I gave him what he wanted, and he left. Haven't seen him since."

"What did you give him?" Brennan said.

"A bunch more meth, some more K and cash," Browder said. "And then he ended up grabbing something else…a rifle. You know one of those numbers with the big scope on it that's supposed to make you be able to shoot stuff from hundreds of yards away? I had taken from a guy in lieu of payment one time. Andrew took it along with the box of bullets that came with it."

"Did he tell you anything about where he was going or about his plans?" Booth asked. "Any hint as to what he was doing next?" The dealer shook his head violently.

"Uh-uh. He didn't say, and I wasn't about to ask," he replied. "I don't want nothing more to do with the guy. I mean, when he was walking out the door, the last time I saw him, he said that he was going to do something he'd been wanting to do for years. And he had this smile on his face while he said it…it was about the creepiest thing I'd ever seen." Booth and Brennan rose from their chairs.

"All right then, Mr. Browder. You just hang tight," Booth nodded as he and Brennan went for the door.

"Wait a minute…I told you everything," Browder squeaked. "What about those charges?" But neither Booth nor Brennan acknowledged him as they left.

"Booth, none of the victims were shot with a rifle," Brennan said once they were in the hallway. "The beveling on the bone suggests a hand gun at close range. So why did he want the rifle?"

Booth just shook his head, and decided that he would leave shortly for the Jeffersonian. Knowing what he knew now, the agent was concerned that things had become even more dangerous than he previously thought.

* * *

While Booth and Brennan were interrogating Browder, Sweets was feeling like a prisoner at the Jeffersonian. Agent Coel had pretty much confined him to Brennan's office, and if Sweets left it for any reason, she insisted on watching his every move. Eventually, he gave up trying to go anywhere and just sat listlessly on the couch.

Seeing how miserable the psychologist was as he moped, Cam confronted Coel.

"Agent Coel, I can assure you that the security at the Medico-Legal lab is of the highest standard," the pathologist said. "There's no reason why Doctor Sweets cannot move about freely within its confines."

"Doctor Saroyan, I'm sure your security measures are adequate," Coel answered icily. "But I can best ensure Doctor Sweets' safety if I am able to observe him at all times."

"Agent Coel."

The two women turned to see Perotta walking toward them with an elderly woman strolling close behind.

"I'm here to relieve you," Perotta said. "You are to report back to the Bureau where Booth will brief you on your next assignment." Coel nodded and left. Once she was out of earshot, Cam gave a sigh of relief.

"Agent Perotta, I can definitely say that I'm glad to see you," the pathologist said.

"Agent Coel means well and is a good agent, but she can be a bit…intense," Perotta nodded.

"That's for sure," Cam muttered. She then looked around Perotta at the woman behind her. "Who's this?"

"An old friend of Doctor Sweets," the agent smiled. "Agent Booth thought it would be good to bring her here."

* * *

Inside Brennan's office, Sweets had slumped against the couch and had started to doze off, but couldn't quite fall asleep. While it was true that Brennan's couch was just as comfortable as Booth's had been, the therapist found himself too anxious to be able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.

"Doctor Sweets?"

The psychologist sat up and saw Cam and Perotta walking into the room.

"There's someone here who would like to see you," Cam said, moving away from the door. Sweets blinked his eyes and watched as an elderly woman with white hair and grey eyes slowly walked into the office. Sweets blinked again in surprise; the woman seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't place her. Meanwhile the woman's eyes clouded with tears, and she put a hand to her mouth.

"Lance? Oh my…," she said moving closer.

Upon hearing her voice, Sweets finally began to remember her.

"Lauren?" he said, standing up. The psychologist could hardly believe it. The last time he had seen his old caseworker, he was still in elementary school.

"Lance…look at you," Lauren continued. "You're all grown up…and you've become such a handsome young man." Lauren then fell silent and continued to take him in. She marveled at the changes she saw in him, but was pleased that the spark of warmth and intelligence she had seen in his eyes as a child was still there to this day.

"Lauren, I…" Sweets suddenly stop and embraced her instead. Lauren had been the first caring adult that had come into his life when he was a child, and he was extremely grateful that Andrew had not gotten to her.

Cam and Perotta smiled and then left them alone, deciding to let them enjoy their reunion in private.

* * *

Elsewhere in the lab, Angela Montenegro had returned from a shopping trip and was placing her bag full of purchases onto her desk in her office. She began to pull things out when a voice from behind startled her.

"I know that look," Hodgins smirked as he walked over to her. "What have you got planned, Ange?" The artist smiled and pulled out some more things from her bag.

"You know how that creep Jensen trashed Sweets' place?" she said. "One of the things he did was tear up a bunch of Sweets' old family photographs and smash up the frames they were in."

"Really? Man, this guy is seriously twisted and evil," the entomologist said, shaking his head. "I can't wait for Booth to nail him."

"You and me both, Jack," Angela grimaced. "Anyway, I was able to scan the scraps of the photographs into the computer and reassemble the pictures there. Then I printed out some new high grade prints, and I got some frames for these restored pictures. I thought I'd put them in and give them to him…to make him feel better and all."

"I'm sure he'll love it," Hodgins said, putting his arm around her. Angela pulled out the stack of printed photos and began flipping through them.

"Look at him…he was so cute as a kid," she smiled. Hodgins moved closer to get a look.

"Are those his grandparents?" he asked.

"Brennan mentioned that these are his parents actually," the artist said. "His adoptive parents."

"Makes sense," Hodgins said. "Thank God he didn't have to grow up with that psychopath."

"They look like really nice people," Angela said, still staring at the pictures. "You can tell that they really loved him….But Brennan said that Wyatt told her that they passed away not too long before he started working with her and Booth."

"That sucks," the entomologist nodded, at a loss to find any other way to express what he felt. Over the past year or so, he had come to rely on Sweets to help him work through his feelings about Zack, about Angela and about the way his life was moving in general. He was in a much better place now, and Hodgins was sure that part of the reason for that was because of all the support Sweets had given him. At this moment, he wished that he could do something to help the young psychologist who had done so much for him.

Angela watched Hodgins' face as he considered all this, and sensed what he was thinking. She patted his arm.

"Hey, would you like to help me put all these photos into the frames?" she asked.

"Yeah…yeah I would," Hodgins grinned.

* * *

Back in Brennan's office, Sweets and Lauren continued to catch up on years of lost time. After listening to Sweets talk about his current position with the Bureau, Lauren beamed with pride.

"Oh Lance…I just knew that you would do something extraordinary with your life," she said. She then gripped one of his hands tightly into hers, her expression becoming serious.

"I know that Carolyn and David would be so proud of you," Lauren said. "They loved you so much…And I hope you can forgive me for not coming to you when they died. I'll regret that for the rest of my life."

"It's all right, Lauren," Sweets said. "You had reasons…And thank you…for what you said."

"And I'm also sorry to hear about Lillian," she added. "I know that the two of you weren't close, but I'm sure that it's still upsetting. She…she didn't deserve what happened to her, of that I'm certain."

"What about you?" Sweets said. "I mean, having to be taken into custody and all…I…I'm sorry about all this…about Andrew…." Lauren squeezed his hand.

"Lance, this isn't your fault," she said softly. "None of it is…It's all Andrew's doing. And don't worry about me. Those agents are watching me night and day at that hotel. Nothing will happen, I'm sure of it." She then reached over and began stroking his hair. It was a familiar gesture, one she had done many times while Sweets was still a lonely, scared little boy, living at the orphanage. He leaned into the touch.

"You did so much for me," Sweets murmured. "I know that I gave you a lot of grief…all the problems you had placing me and having to take me out of all those foster homes." Lauren smiled at him.

"You were a good boy, Lance," she soothed. "You always were. And you never deserved what happened to you. Believe me, it was one of the happiest days of my life when David and Carolyn adopted you. They loved you with all their hearts and they would have never wanted you to blame yourself for anything that Andrew does."

They embraced again, and Lauren patted his back.

"You stay safe, Lance Sweets," she whispered to him. "And know that your parents are watching over you."

"I know," Sweets said, sniffing hard. "I know they are…Take care of yourself, Lauren. Thank you…for everything you did for me."

"You're very welcome," Lauren said as she let him go. They both dried their eyes and moments later Perotta and Cam showed back up with Booth and Brennan.

"Mrs. MacArthur, we should get you back to the hotel," Perotta said. "We have a couple of agents waiting there for you."

"You're coming with us, Sweets," Booth said taking a step toward him. "We've got information that tells us that Jensen is even more dangerous than we originally thought. We're going to have to move you to a more secure location."

"All right," the psychologist said as he and Lauren got up. After a last goodbye, Perotta and Lauren left together. Brennan gathered up some reports to read on the trip and then the three of them walked out of the office. Cam watched them leave after wishing them luck. A moment later, Hodgins and Angela came up to her.

"Hey, where did Sweets go?" Angela asked.

"Booth wants to move him to some kind of safe house," Cam answered.

"Darn, I had something I wanted to show him in my office," Angela huffed.

"I'm sure you could still catch them," the pathologist said. "They just left and they're going through the side door. You'll beat them if you use the delivery entrance."

"Thanks Cam," the artist grinned. Then she and Hodgins took off down the hallway.

* * *

Outside the Medico-Legal lab, a man was lurking on the grounds. He was wearing sunglasses, a large cap and a long leather coat. He shivered a little as the wind hit him, but he remained determined in his mission.

He darted about, careful to not stay in any one place for very long, careful to not draw attention to himself. He had been amazed that he had been able to sneak up this close to the lab, but he knew that he shouldn't press his luck.

After all, he could ill-afford to get caught. Not now. Not when he was so close to getting the revenge that he had been thirsting for all these years.

His patience was soon rewarded at the sight of Sweets, the agent and the woman who was with him walking out of the building. He crouched down into some bushes and reached into his coat. He then pulled out a rifle and aimed it at the three of them. He smiled as he remembered how Browder assured him that even a child could get a perfect shot with this thing. He just wished that his fingers would stop shaking.

'_Now Lance…you'll see how your friends react when I…'_

Suddenly a flicker of movement caught his eye. He watched as two more people, a man and a woman, hurried over to join the others at the entrance. The man tightened his jaw, and his hands shook a little more.

'_There's too many of them…too many there…'_

But as soon as he thought that, he felt an unexpected calm pass over him, and he smiled again.

'_It doesn't matter…Not at all…I'll still make my point…And the more that witness this, the better.' _

He craned his neck and took aim.

'_Remember Lance…this is all because of you.'_

_

* * *

__Bang!_

"Get down!"

"What was that? A gunshot?"

"Ange?"

"Call an ambulance!"

"I need an ambulance here now!"

"Angela!"


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Next chapter. Hard to believe the new season starts tomorrow. :D Yes, I'm quite excited.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**SweetFavoriteThings**: Glad you enjoyed the scenes with Lauren. :D And yes, I do plan on going into more detail about why Andrew is the way he is, although Booth stumbled into a few hints to it when he was reading Andrew's file. And I'm glad you enjoyed my little "Brennan-isms" ;) They are fun to write.

**TimeWitch93**: Thanks. I do like to connect all of my work together, but I realize that not everyone reads all my stuff. Thus, I try to make sure everyone can keep up to speed whether this is the only thing of mine that they read or if their a loyal reader of all my work. :)

**Bookwormie123**: Yeah, you are not alone in wishing for a painful demise for Andrew. :) But don't worry...my other readers will tell you that I'm not a character killer. ;)

**Buttercups3**: Funny, I'm used to you wanting me to add as many chapters as possible to my fics. ;) I guess it's a little easier for me because I know how everything is going to turn out. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter and thanks again for all the support and reviews. :D

**D**: Yes, I can tell that you are upset. And I agree that there's too much of a tendency in society to blame victims for what happens to them...Andrew clearly takes pleasure out of causing others pain, and unfortunately, he knows all too well how to hurt Sweets. It also doesn't help that he continues to see Sweets a "property" that's his to damage...As far as what Booth should do with him...we will have to see how it works out...

**Fear Herself:** You should know by now about my great love of the cliffhanger. ;D But as you can see, I'm updating at a better pace these days, so hopefully the wait wasn't too long. Thanks as always for the reviews.

**Super Ario**: You might have to take a number because there are a lot of readers who are anxious to get a piece of Jensen themselves. And yes, this is why I apologize for the cliffhangers...even though I can't help myself, I know they can create feelings like the ones you have...I'll take your hatred as a compliment. ;)

**AbandonMorality**: Um...ok. Hopefully you'll have some different emoticons at the end of this chapter. ;)

**SpiceItUp2007**: Sorry about that, but hopefully this chapter came soon enough. I hope you enjoy it. :)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 11

An hour later, Sweets was sitting in a tiny grey room with no windows and only one entrance, which was currently blocked by Agent Coel. The chair the psychologist was sitting in was a hideous brown vinyl monstrosity that only served to create an ache in his lower back. For a fleeting moment, he wondered why hospitals chose to torture their visitors this way, but his mind quickly went back to the reason why he was there in the first place.

'_Angela's hurt…in the hospital…because of Andrew.'_

'_Because of me.'_

Sweets put his head in his hands; no matter how many times Lauren's assurances played out in his mind, he still could not reason past this point. He could not stop feeling responsible for Angela getting shot.

He thought back to right after the shooting stopped. Angela had been lying on the ground, and Booth was calling frantically for an ambulance. After it arrived and the EMT's tended to her, Booth, Brennan, Cam, Sweets followed it the ambulance to the hospital. Hodgins had insisted on riding with Angela, and was waiting for the rest of them when they showed up in the waiting room. Once there, Booth called up Agent Coel and made arrangements for Sweets to wait in a private room by himself.

'_It's for your protection, Sweets,'_ Booth had assured him_. 'There are way too many people coming in and out of here. Jensen could slip in and we might not be able to spot him in time.'_

Sitting there alone, Sweets thought again about Booth's words.

'_Booth's right…maybe they couldn't catch him in time before he hurt someone else…Maybe me…but maybe Booth, Doctor Brennan….or any of the others.'_

Sweets trembled; when he had first heard the shots while walking out of the Jeffersonian, a part of him thought that that was the end. That Andrew had finally caught up with him and was going to kill him right then and there, like he had been threatening to do all along. But it only took a few seconds to realize that it had been Angela who had been hit instead of him.

'_It should have been me,'_ he thought as his eyes filled with tears. _'She was standing right next to me…It was just dumb luck that he missed.'_

Suddenly Sweets felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Instinctively, the psychologist pulled it out and answered it.

"How's your friend doing, Lance?" a voice cackled over the line. "I hear she's in the hospital right now. Too bad."

Sweets' hands began to shake as he recognized the voice as belonging to Andrew. He briefly wondered how he had gotten this number, but soon found that he couldn't focus on those kinds of questions at the moment.

"Why?" he said, his voice quaking. "She didn't do anything to you."

"She needs to learn…they all need to learn what happens when people get close to you," Andrew practically screamed at him. "You ruined my life, you worthless little brat. So now you're going to get to find out what that feels like."

"Please," Sweets begged. "Do anything you want to me…Just…please don't hurt anyone else."

"Oh, I'll get to you soon enough," Jensen chortled, chilling Sweets' insides. "But I'm going to have some fun first. Who should I go after next, hmmm? Maybe that bone lady you hang around…Or maybe that fed who's guarding you?" Andrew stopped to chuckle for a moment before continuing.

"Yeah…that fed thinks he's so tough," he said. "I'll bet he won't be thinking that while he gets a bullet between the eyes."

'_No… no, not Booth,'_ Sweets thought, his heart constricting_. 'Booth is a good man…He has a son…Brennan needs him…He can't die. Not for my sake.'_

"I'll be seeing you, Lance," Andrew said in a sing-song voice. "Soon."

He then hung up, and Sweets thought he would be sick as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. He looked over near the entrance to the room and was relieved that Coel had not noticed the conversation he just had.

'_Andrew's going to kill the people closest to me…Just to make me suffer.'_

Dozens of memories suddenly flooded the psychologist's mind: memories of working side-by-side with Booth, of sharing lunch with Angela or Cam, of playfully arguing with Brennan over the merits of psychology, of laughing with Hodgins over some absurdity of life. As he sifted through all these happy memories, Sweets made a decision.

'_I can't keep them in harm's way. I need to find some way to shift Andrew's focus away from them.'_

The therapist then began to steel himself as a plan formulated in his mind. It would be one of the hardest things he ever had to do, but he was determined to go through with it, no matter how painful it might be.

* * *

The mood was solemn in the waiting room. Cam tried her best to be encouraging to Hodgins, but nothing she said was going to reach him. Not until he knew that Angela was all right. Brennan had gone off to find a doctor so that she could learn more about her friend's condition, and Booth paced off to the side of the room, trying hard to remain focused. Eventually Brennan re-appeared, and she walked over to join the agent.

"The doctor's said that they would talk with us shortly," Brennan said. Booth nodded, but said nothing.

"Booth?" the anthropologist said. "Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"What?" Booth said, halting his pacing and giving her a confused look.

"As I've pointed out before, I've noticed that your mood seems to elevate after conversing with me about the things you are thinking about," she said. "Plus you have often mentioned the colloquialism that 'two heads are better than one'. Although, I'm pretty sure that such an occurrence would be the result of a severe genetic defect and would not be the least bit positive."

Booth sighed and leaned against a wall.

"Is this about Angela?" Brennan asked. "Because the doctors did not seem to think that her injury was serious and so ,statistically…"

"There you go…I mean how do you do that, Bones?" Booth retorted. "Your best friend's in the hospital, and you're being all…squinty and clinical."

"Of course I'm concerned for her, but I take comfort in facts, like the doctors' positive assessment of her condition, and the knowledge that we will soon be arresting the person responsible for her being here," Brennan replied. "It's when we only have questions and no answers…that is when things are worse. Fortunately, we do not have many unanswered questions here."

"You know what? You're right, Bones," Booth answered. "You're absolutely right…And I'm sorry if I implied that you don't care. I know you do."

"I do," the anthropologist nodded. "But…it's not just Angela that you're upset about, is it?"

"I shouldn't have let things go this far," the agent said, beginning to pace again. "I should have prevented this from happening."

"But there was no way that you could have, Booth," Brennan responded. "You cannot speed up the course of a murder investigation past a certain point. Forensic science can only advance things so far." The agent turned from her again and hung his head.

"It's my job to protect you guys," Booth muttered. "You, Angela, Cam…all of you. I'm supposed to keep you safe."

"Doctor Sweets would say that you have a tendency to take responsibility for things even when they aren't truly your fault due to the strong, protective role you have taken on," she said. Booth let out a gust of air and turned back toward her while rubbing his eyes.

"Then there's Sweets," he said. "I mean that psycho was able to get close enough to shoot at him…Jensen's determined to get him, and I…I can't let that happen."

"You won't," Brennan assured him. "Jensen is nothing more than a vindictive, drug-abusing bully. There is no way that he can defeat you…or all of us." The two of them fell silent for a couple minutes before Booth sighed again.

"I know that I had him sequestered so that I could better protect him, but…I just don't feel right about leaving Sweets alone right now," he said.

"Do you think that he also feels responsible somehow?" the anthropologist said.

"Yeah I do," Booth said.

"But why?"

"Because I would if I were him," Booth said as he walked over to re-join Hodgins and Cam. Brennan followed him over and just then one of the doctors showed up with a chart in his hands.

"Family of Angela Montenegro?"

"That's us," Cam walking over with Hodgins close behind.

"Technically we are not…"Brennan started, but Booth nudged her hard and she stopped.

"How is she?" Hodgins asked, his voice frantic.

"Ms. Montenegro is fine," the doctor said. "The bullet only grazed her arm, so she only received a flesh wound."

"Again with that vague term," Brennan frowned. "Why do so many people who possess a medical degree persist in referring to…?"

"Anything else we should know, Doctor?" Cam interrupted.

"Well she does have a mild concussion," the doctor said, flipping through the chart.

"Probably as a result of striking her head on the pavement after being pushed down to the ground," Brennan said.

"Hey, someone was shooting at us," Hodgins retorted, angry. "What was I supposed to do? Just let her stand there and get shot again?"

"Can we visit her?" Booth said, hoping to diffuse Hodgins' anger. The doctor glanced again at the chart.

"I don't see why not," he said. "Ms. Montenegro has already been transferred to her room where she will spend the night. She will probably be able to leave tomorrow, barring any complications."

A couple minutes later, Booth, Brennan, Cam and Hodgins crowded into the room where Angela was lying down. The artist had a bandage near the top of her forehead on the left side and her left arm was bandaged. Her eyes lit up as everyone walked in.

"Ange?" Hodgins said, taking her hand.

"Guys…Jack…I'm fine, really," she said. "Well other than my arm and my head of course." She then turned to Booth. "Were you able to catch the guy?"

"No," Booth mumbled, looking down. Angela sensed his unease and decided to let the matter drop there. She then noticed that someone was missing, and her eyes widened.

"Where's Sweets?" she asked. "Oh my God…was he…?"

"He's fine. He didn't get hurt," Cam said. "He's here at the hospital. Agent Coel is watching over him right now."

"That's good…but if he's here, why didn't he come to visit?" Angela asked.

"Are you kidding?" Hodgins asked, incredulous. "It's better that he's not here."

"Hodgins," the artist gasped.

"What? It's the truth," the entomologist said. "Ange, you just got shot because you happened to be standing next to Sweets, and because his dad is a lousy shot. Probably from all the meth." He stopped and took a deep breath, while gripping Angela's hand a little tighter.

"Look…I'm not saying that it's Sweets' fault. It's not," Hodgins continued. "But I don't know if it's really safe to be around him right now."

"Excuse me."

Everyone turned to see one of the nurses entering the room.

"I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave," the nurse said. "Ms. Montenegro should get some rest now."

"I'm staying," Hodgins insisted. "There's no way I'm leaving here."

Booth walked over and showed the nurse his badge.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth," he said. "I think it would be better if Doctor Hodgins were to stay here. In fact I need to talk to you and your staff about arranging protection for Ms. Montenegro while she is here."

The agent led the nurse into the hallway to discuss things further. Cam then walked over to the bed and leaned close.

"I'm really glad that you're all right," she said. "Now you should just rest for however long you need to."

"Thanks Cam," Angela said. Cam smiled and walked out of the room while Brennan walked over.

"Angela…" Brennan said, hesitant.

"I know…sweetie," Angela smiled at her. "And thank you. But you should go. Go help Booth catch this creep."

"I will come here tomorrow to pick you up," Brennan promised before leaving the room. After she left, Hodgins pulled up and chair and sat down next to the bed, all while not letting go of her hand.

"Ange…I'm sorry," he said quietly. Angela carefully reached over and placed her other hand on top of his.

"It's ok, Jack," she soothed. "I know you were scared…Truth is…I was scared too."

"Was?" Hodgins said, surprised at her choice of words.

"Yeah, I mean…" Angela sighed and shifted her position before continuing.

"I mean, I know sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here," she said. "I'm an artist. It's not like I grew up with some burning desire to solve crimes and catch bad guys. And yet here I am, and that's what I do….Sometimes I ask myself why I choose to stay around all this misery and death. After all, I only took this job so that I could go back to Paris and my artwork."

She stopped and carefully laid down some more in her bed, wincing slightly when she jostled her arm.

"I used to kid myself into thinking that I was just doing this for Brennan, because she's my best friend," Angela said. "Or I'd think it was for you…because doing what you do at the Jeffersonian…that's your passion in life…But the truth is, I do it because it's what I want to do, at least for now…I know that I need to get away from it sometimes, but I always return. Because this is where I belong."

Angela then looked over at Hodgins, her expression growing serious.

"And the fact of the matter is…It's just as possible that I'd get shot because of Booth, Brennan or you even…There's a lot of criminals out there who would love to stop the work you guys do. But I'm not going to shut myself away from any of you because without friendship and love, what's the point of life?"

"Wow, Ange," Hodgins said, blinking back some tears. "I didn't know that you thought that…But you're right."

"Of course I'm right," she said with a half smile, while her eyes remained sad. "And you know what? We can't abandon Sweets right now either. If we do…that bastard wins."

Angela closed her eyes and laid down completely.

"I hope he's going to be ok," she said.

"Sweets will be fine," the entomologist said. "You know Booth. He won't let that jerk anywhere near him."

* * *

After making the necessary arrangements for Angela and Hodgins with the hospital staff, Booth headed back to where Sweets and Coel were waiting, with Brennan and Cam close behind. When they got there, they saw the psychologist sitting still and silent while facing a wall.

"Sweets?" Booth said as he walked in. The therapist stiffened his posture, but did not turn around.

"Is…is Angela all right?" he asked quietly.

"She's fine," Cam assured him. "Her arm was grazed, and she got a mild concussion from when Hodgins pushed her down. But she should be able to leave tomorrow."

"Thank God," Sweets muttered.

"Come on Sweets," Booth said. "We need to get you out of here and into a safe house. We'll swing by my place, and then the two of us will…"

"If it's all the same to you, Agent Booth…I'd rather be escorted by Agent Coel," Sweets said as he stood up and turned to face them. Booth blinked at the cool, emotionless tone the psychologist had and at his expression which was neutral.

"Coel will be coming with us," Booth said. "But it's my job to see that you remain safe. So I'm not staying out of this."

"If this is about my safety…then wouldn't it be in my best interests to stay with Agent Coel," Sweets retorted. "You should be working with Doctor Brennan so that you can focus on catching Andrew before he hurts anyone else."

"He has a point Booth," Brennan said. "Rationally speaking, it would be a better allocation of our resources if the two of us worked to find Andrew."

"Perhaps we don't all need to rely on the crutch of rationality that you seem dependant on, Doctor Brennan," Sweets snapped. "Instead we can just look at the facts and the fact is…I didn't need to worry about being shot at while under Coel's protection."

"I know you're upset about what happened, Sweets, but you're out of line," Cam warned.

"Am I?" the therapist answered. "I also know that if the Jeffersonian's security had better supervision, Angela might not have been shot."

Cam and Brennan were stunned into silence by Sweets' hostile tone. Booth, however, ground his jaw; he was quickly losing his patience with the psychologist.

"All right 'Doctor Sweets' we'll do things your way," the agent said through gritted teeth. "You'll ride with Coel, and after we grab your things from my place, she will take you to the safe house."

"Good, thank you," Sweets nodded as he walked out to the hallway. "Maybe now I can feel safe." Booth huffed, but immediately regained his composure.

"Bones, why don't you head back to the lab with Cam?" he said. "I'll meet you back there once I'm done with Sweets." The two women nodded, and Booth went out the hallway for a quick conference with Coel.

* * *

A few minutes later, Coel guided Sweets out to her car, and two of them got in. She then took off down the road with Sweets sitting in the passenger seat. As they sped down the road, Sweets kept his gaze firmly fixed on the traffic outside his window. He fought hard to keep his emotions in check even though he was edging ever closer to breaking down.

'_I'm sorry,'_ he thought as he remembered his friends' reactions to his words.

'_I'm so sorry.'_


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: Next chapter. I'm going to apologize in advance for the cliffhanger again, and I'm going to try to put up another chapter later this week.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. I'm just borrowing them for a while. ;P

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lives in the now**: Well thank you for the review as always, but...no we are not that close to the end actually. We've got a while yet to go. ;)

**TimeWitch93**: I like Angela way to much to let anything serious happen to her. :) And you're right, Andrew is not that smart, but as you will soon see, he's had lots of time to dream up an elaborate plan...

**SweetFavoriteThings**: No, I suspect that your feelings toward Andrew make you part of a large club. :) Trust me, you are not alone in wanting him gone.

**D**: That is exactly it for Andrew: despite the fact that he's not anywhere near Sweets' level of genius, he knows Sweets inside out due to his having spent some time "raising" him as a small child. Back then, he would have had ample opportunity to find out the most effective ways to torment Sweets. And he's using that knowledge to his advantage right now.

**Buttercups3**: Haha, mange! ;P...But yes, Andrew has not only gotten to Sweets, but to everyone else as shown by how unnerved everyone is... I'm glad you enjoyed my B&B and my Hodgela moments. They needed a chance to respond to recent events... As for why no one notices what Sweets is doing...Well it's hard to think when in the midst of a crisis...But that might not be the case once everyone has a chance to think about what's going on...

**Super Ario**: For all his genius, Sweets can be vulnerable to making unwise and impulsive decisions. Especially when dealing with someone who knows how to terrorize him the way Andrew does...And as for the rest of the review...Um you'll just have to read and see...And yes, it is cool that Bones is back. Looking forward to new episodes to obsess over. :D

**LadyKale1985**: Thanks for your reviews as always. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**ScotFree**: I agree...Too bad he's far from being out of the woods yet...

**Fear Herself**: No you did not imagine it. I did throw a little Hodgela in there. :D I really enjoy them as a couple and was thrilled when they finally got married last season...And I'm sure you will be ready to declare all-out war after this chapter. ;)

**Fearlee**: Yeah, I try to make it kind of like the TV show that way...they tend to leave off at some interesting point right before going to commercial. ;D It's not always planned that way though. I just tend to cut things off wherever it seems like a good place for a break...Although I'm sure you might not believe that after reading this chapter...And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about any of my other plot points like Wyatt and his secret "assignments". There will be more on that soon...

**JonasBROgirl8816**: Again, hopefully this was fast enough. :) Fortunately there will be another update even sooner.

**Misscruel**: Thank you for the review. :D I try to keep everyone as in character as possible, so I'm always thrilled when someone feels that the characters ring true.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 12

Back in the Medico-Legal lab, Brennan had returned to the ooky room and was re-examining the bones that had been laid out there. She was pretty sure that she had derived everything that she could from the remains, but then again she knew better to make unfounded assumptions. That way was counter-intuitive to science and thus oppositional to her way of thinking.

Besides that, Brennan found that careful, pain-staking work such as this had a way of stimulating her thought processes. She had been spending a lot of time outside the lab during this whole case due to how it affected her and Booth personally, but now she felt she needed time to focus on the pure science of the forensics in front of her.

After about an hour of close examination, the anthropologist made some notes of some things she wanted to explore further. But she frowned when she remembered that Clark had finished his rotation as her assistant because it came at an inopportune time. She was aware that most of her best interns would not be available for about two weeks due to other commitments. Cam had warned her about the upcoming two-week gap months ago, and Brennan had originally planned to focus on some centuries old European remains that she had been putting off. But now with this case, Brennan admitted that she could use her brightest grad students to assist her with her work.

She started to make plans about how to prioritize the avenues she wanted to explore when Booth walked over to the entrance way.

"Agent Coel is on her way with Sweets to the hotel we agreed on. Agent Burnet volunteered to join her on this shift, and he's going to meet her there soon," he said. "Have you got anything for me?"

"I have some questions that I would like to answer, but I'm not sure if they will be helpful to you as far as finding Jensen goes," she responded. "I'm going to make some plans for analysis and then I could go over what I've discovered thus far."

"Fine. I'll talk to you in a bit. And go ahead and pursue those questions," Booth said as he turned to leave. "We need anything we can get at this point."

* * *

Booth headed up to the upper lounge area and sat down onto one of the couches while he waited for Brennan to finish up. He thought again about the arrangements he made for Sweets and was satisfied at the results. He knew Coel was a dependable agent, and while Burnet had been known to be a little reckless in the past, he had recently distinguished himself with some high-profile work that led to a couple of large meth labs being shut down.

But Booth had some unanswered questions that were plaguing him as well. Now that he had some time to reflect on recent events, some thoughts began to nag at him.

First on his mind was Sweets' actions as he left the hospital. Initially, Booth had been a little hurt and offended at the therapist's harsh tone, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized how out of character that was for Sweets.

'_Sweets sometimes says some pretty squinty and awkward things…but he doesn't tend to go out of his way to be cruel to others,'_ Booth thought. _'It's just not in his nature...'_

The agent made a mental note to talk to Wyatt about this. He had wanted to see the psychiatrist-turned-culinary expert again anyway to see if he had been able to come up with anything from Sweets' notes on Jensen. But then another question made its way to the forefront of his brain.

'_Why did Jensen miss Sweets if he was aiming for him? Browder acted like that rifle would make it easy to get a clear shot with that scope….So why did he hit Angela instead?'_

Booth considered the theory that Hodgins had mentioned about Jensen being too high on meth to shoot straight, but soon dismissed that idea.

'_Jensen…he's a real nut case, but he's been careful about this whole thing…Slashing Sweets' tires, trashing his apartment, and now shooting Angela….all while not getting caught. Almost as if he had carefully planned all this…That's not the actions of someone who's tweaking so much they can't think straight….let alone shoot straight.'_

As he mulled over Andrew's possible state of mind, a new set of questions popped into Booth's mind.

'_How did he know that Sweets was at the Jeffersonian just then? And for that matter…how did he know where Sweets lives and what car he drives?'_ the agent asked himself. _'It's almost as if he has some kind of inside track into Sweets' life…Like someone is telling him everything he needs to know about…'_

Suddenly something Browder said during his interrogation came back to Booth.

'_I mean he even managed to send a few well-paying clients my way.'_

'_Well-paying clients? How did Andrew manage to steer that kind of business Browder's way?' _Booth wondered._ 'A small timer like him.'_

It wasn't long before a new possibility presented itself to Booth.

'_Unless…Maybe those clients had their normal suppliers cut off….And somehow Andrew knew about it…Because he tipped someone off to those labs in the first place…Someone in the Bureau…'_

Just then, Booth's blood ran cold. He ran down the stairwell and bellowed for Brennan, who was walking out of the ooky room and taking off her gloves.

"What is it, Booth?" she said as she removed her lab coat.

"We need to leave now," Booth said. The two of them swiftly headed for the parking lot and Booth had pulled out his phone and had called the Hoover Building as they walked.

"This is Special Agent Booth," he said. "I need you to put me through to Agent Coel…Yes, I know that she probably reported in recently, but put me through anyway. This is an emergency."

Once in the parking lot, Booth and Brennan rushed over to Booth's SUV and climbed in. Seconds later they were leaving the parking lot and were speeding down the road. The agent was still listening to someone on his phone, leaving Brennan confused about his sudden rush of concern.

"Well then keep trying," Booth finally said. "In fact, go ahead and try to triangulate her coordinates with her cell phone signal…and make sure to send back up units now to the safe house where Doctor Sweets is being held…Yes, I know but do it anyway." Booth then hung up and turned his sirens on.

"Booth, what is going on?" Brennan asked him again.

"I should have seen it before now, Bones," Booth answered, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "How could Jensen have known about Sweets' car, his home address, and even where he was at all times unless…?"

"Unless someone was giving him that information," Brennan said, finishing his sentence.

"Exactly," the agent replied. "There's got to be a leak at the Bureau. They're the only ones who would have all of that information."

"Do you think it's Agent Coel?"

"No," Booth said. "I've known Coel for years…She's a real 'by-the-book' type of woman. She's fully dedicated to her job…It's not her…But it's someone there, and by now, whoever it is knows where Sweets is hiding. And if they know, then Jensen knows."

* * *

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of DC, Sweets had been sitting on a couch for the last thirty minutes, trying to relax and listening to Coel's instructions.

"Make sure you stay away from all of the windows," she told him. "And do not under any circumstances answer the door. In fact, keep out of sight whenever it is opened. We need to make sure that as few people as possible know that you're here."

"Understood," the psychologist said dully.

"Good," Coel said, as she turned to face him after she finished looking out one of the windows. "So…after Agent Burnet arrives, I figured that we could order dinner. Any requests?"

"I'm not really very hungry," Sweets shrugged as he rose to his feet.

"Well…you think about it," Coel said. "If you change your mind, let me know."

"Fine," Sweets said as he walked away from her.

The hotel they were in had some rather spacious rooms. The one they had chosen was almost cottage-style with its own kitchen and front room area. Sweets walked over the bedroom, which had two double beds and a bathroom attached to it. He sat down on one of the beds and put his head in his hands.

He might have felt safe for the moment, but he also felt empty and alone.

'_Even if they find him now, it's too late,'_ he thought_. 'Andrew's already destroyed my life.'_

Sweets thought over the last couple of days and was reminded of his damaged car, his ruined apartment, and the tarnish that he was sure would be attached to his reputation once this all came out in an arrest and trial. But what he fixated on the most was the friendships which he had just tried to throw away.

'_They were all trying to help me, and look what it got them…I should have known better than to think that I could ever really be a part of their group…All I do is bring misery to people…And they don't deserve that.'_

Sweets laid down on the bed, exhausted. He had gotten very little sleep over the past couple of days, so within minutes he found himself becoming drowsy.

'_No matter what…at least they're safe now,'_ Sweets told himself as he closed his eyes. _'Andrew will lose interest in them if they aren't around me.'

* * *

_

Out in the front room area, Coel paced about, doing her best to remain alert. She had heard about the shooting at the Jeffersonian and was determined to not have a repeat of that event here. Still, she knew that she wouldn't really be at ease until she had some backup, so Coel reluctantly looked forward to Burnet's arrival.

When Coel heard that Burnet had volunteered to work with her doing this shift, she was a little wary at first. Burnet had always struck her as being too reckless to be dependable and for a while she had wondered if he would last very long as an agent of the Bureau.

'_He's always been the type to cut corners,' _she thought._ 'That's not the type of person we need at the FBI.'_

But she had also heard about his recent work that led to some meth labs being shut down, so she hoped that was a sign that he had gotten more serious about his work.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of knocking at the door. Coel pulled out her gun and crept over to the door so that she could look out the peephole. She saw Burnet standing alone, and she carefully undid the locks.

"Come in," she said through the door. Burnet came in slowly, and Coel watched around him to make sure that he hadn't been followed. Once he was inside and the door was shut, Coel finally re-holstered her weapon.

"So…where is he?" Burnet asked as he walked around the room.

"In his room," Coel answered. "I think he's sleeping."

"I don't suppose there's any way that he could sneak out," Burnet asked. "Or that someone could sneak in there and get him."

"I wouldn't worry about him running," Coel said. "He seems pretty freaked out by the scumbag who's after him. And the bedroom's windows are locked down tight and there's only the one door in or out. There's no way anyone is going in or coming out of there without us seeing it."

"Good," Burnet said, with a grin. Coel was unnerved by how happy he seemed, but decided to attend to her growling stomach rather than dwell on that.

"Ok then…well the shrink said that he didn't want anything to eat," she said turning to a stand with a phone book sitting on it. "So I was thinking we could order something like pizza. That way if he changes his mind…"

But Coel was cut off when Burnet pulled his gun out and struck her in the head with it. She fell to the floor, unconscious. After checking to see that she was truly out, Burnet pulled out her gun and cell-phone out of her pockets. He then went to the bedroom and opened the door just a crack to see Sweets fast asleep on one of the beds. He closed the door and locked it from the outside. After that, he pulled out a disposable cell-phone and made a call.

"Hey…yeah, I'm at the place now…Don't worry, she won't be able to cause any trouble…And he's sleeping like a baby. You can come and get him now."

Burnet hung up and as he was putting the phone back into his pocket. Coel's phone started to go off. Hastily, Burnet turned it off.

He had a lot to do before his visitor arrived, and he didn't want the psychologist to wake up any time soon.

* * *

Booth slapped his hand in frustration onto the steering wheel. The heavy DC traffic was making it difficult for him to maneuver through it, even with his sirens on. Even worse, the Bureau had gotten a hold of him at one point and informed him that there were no field agents who were any closer than he was right now from the hotel. That meant that it would be at least forty minutes before anyone would be arriving there.

Booth called the Bureau again to see if anyone had gotten through to Coel, but was only given more disturbing news.

"They tried triangulating Coel's position through her cell-phone, but it had been turned off," Booth told Brennan after he had hung up. "And apparently, Burnet, who should be there by now, isn't answering his phone either."

"Do you think that it's Burnet?" Brennan asked.

"I can't know for sure until we do a little digging, but yeah, it's looking that way, Bones," the agent grimaced. He then pulled out his phone again after swerving through some more traffic and hit his speed dial.

He hoped that he would be lucky enough to get an answer this time.

* * *

Sweets stirred from his dreamless slumber when he thought he heard a crash in the other room. He started to get up so he could investigate, when he felt his cell-phone begin to vibrate. He pulled it out and answered it, still groggy.

"Hello?" he mumbled.

"Sweets," Booth said relief evident in his voice. "Where are you right now?"

"Booth?" Sweets answered, confused. "I…I'm at the hotel with Agent Coel. What's going on?"

"Ok Sweets, listen to me carefully," Booth said. "Burnet, the agent who's supposed to meet with Coel at the hotel…he's dirty. He's been helping Jensen find out all about you through this whole thing. You need to get out of there right now and go find a public place...Then just stay there, and I'll be there in a couple minutes to get you."

"What?" the psychologist said startled at this revelation. "But what about…?"

"Just do it now," Booth ordered. "Stay on the line with me and let me know when you're out of there and where you're going."

"All right," Sweets said, jumping up from the bed. He slipped the cell-phone into his pocket without hanging it up and went over to the door. But it was locked. He then tried the windows and found that they were sealed tight. The therapist looked around the room for something he could break the windows with, but came up empty. He then heard movement and a voice coming from the other rooms. He didn't dare risk letting whoever was out there know what he was doing, figuring that they could be armed. Instead he scrambled into the adjoining bathroom and shut the door and locked it. Sweets then sank to the floor as he pulled his phone back out.

"Booth," Sweets said, panic seeping into his voice. "The doors and windows are all locked and there's someone out in the other room….There is no way out."

"Then…try to stay out of sight, all right?" Booth said, trying hard to remain calm himself. "We will be there in a few minutes…just hang tight."

"Wait Booth," Sweets said. "Before you hang up…I wanted to say that I'm sorry for…."

"It's ok, Sweets," the agent interrupted. "And don't worry…Just stay on the line with me until I get there…Everything will be fine."

"Booth…I, um…just in case I don't…"Sweets swallowed hard before continuing.

"I just wanted to thank you," he said quietly. "For…for everything… And please tell Hodgins that I'm sorry about Angela…and…"

"Stop," Booth said, uneasy at Sweets' tone. "Look there's no need for all this. You can tell everyone this stuff yourself when we bring you in…You just stay on the line."

* * *

Burnet had just finished tying Coel up and stashing her away when he heard a knock on the door. He opened up and let the man waiting there inside.

"He's locked up in his room," Burnet said as he turned and closed the door behind his visitor. "So he's all yours whenever you want him….Now, we need a cover story to explain how you were able to get in and out of here with him. I figured that you could kill Coel and just knock me out. Then after this is all over, it'll be business as usual, right?"

But to Burnet's horror, the man had suddenly drawn his gun and had it pointed at his head as the agent turned back toward him.

"Sorry, change of plans," Andrew grinned as he pulled the trigger.

* * *

Booth kept weaving in and out of traffic and was beginning to make good time, but he was still at least twenty-five minutes away from the hotel. Sweets had stopped talking for the most part, but Booth made him say something every couple of minutes so as to assure himself that the psychologist was still there.

The two of them heard the loud and only somewhat muffled sound coming from outside the room Sweets was in.

"Sweets," Booth said. "What was that?"

"I…I don't know," the therapist said his voice beginning to quaver. "A gunshot, I think."

Then there was the sound of pounding, and Andrew's voice rang out.

"Let me in there, Lance," he screamed. "Now!"

"Oh God…he's here," Sweets whimpered.

"Keep that door shut," Booth ordered. "We're getting there as fast as we can."

"Booth…I…"

Just then Booth heard even more pounding and then a gunshot. That was followed by the sounds of some kind of struggle and then it was silent again.

"Sweets!" Booth yelled into the phone. But instead of the psychologist's voice, the agent only heard a hearty chuckle.

"Game over, Fed…I win," Jensen laughed into the phone. "You will never see him again."

There was another loud sound, and the line went dead.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Ok the next chapter is here. And again, I hope to be updating soon, so as to avoid too much torture. ;)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. Despite my hopes and dreams...

As always, thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lives in the now**: Yep, we still have a while to go, so there will be a few more plot twists along the way. ;)

**Peanutmeg**: I figure that Booth would not want to listen to anyone basically plan out their last words over his cell phone...especially not someone as close to him as Sweets. Thus his anxiety over it...Hope you enjoy this update as well.

**Seletua**: Sorry, cliffhangers are addictive to me. ;) And yes, I enjoy writing longer stories when the right idea hits me, so I hope you will enjoy this fic to the end as well.

**Super Ario**: Well it's a little late, but here is something to spice up the weekend at the very least. ;) And yes, that feeling you mentioned was intentional. Even though he is hateful and abusive, Andrew still sees himself as Sweets' father and thus fully expects Sweets to obey him accordingly. He refuses to see Sweets as anything but property that's his to abuse as he sees fit...Thanks for the all the reviews. :D

**Fear Herself**: Sorry, it's my muse...It dictates when I end each chapter and I'm just obeying it. I swear. ;) I'm glad you were able to enjoy the tension that I was trying to build. There will be some more suspense here soon, so I hope you won't hurt me too badly in the midst of your war.

**TimeWitch93**: I'm afraid you may have to take a number. There is a long line of readers who have mentioned that they want to kill Andrew. ;) Maybe you could join the anti-Jensen posse that's growing by the day...

**JonasBROgirl8816**: Here's the next update. And there will be another one soon...

**D**: No, Andrew has neither the means or the brains to do this alone, as it will become clear. The main thing he has going for him is that he's had a lot of time to plan this...And yes, Andrew is not the type to acknowledge any alliances he might have made. Browder was right to be scared of him...And yes, Sweets can at least cling to the idea that his Jeffersonian family have not given up on him...something that will be extremely important now...

**Buttercups3**: Haha...well not everyone can be the best anthropologist in the world. ;) There are a lot of ways to stand up to someone as you will see, so yes, Sweets will find a way to exert his own strength at some point...And I'm sure you're not the only one wondering if I'm going to clear up all my plot points like Burnet and Wyatt's tasks, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about any of them. :)And yes, sadly Andrew has a lot in store for Sweets...none of it pleasant...

**Cobalt6233**: Sorry to say, Sweets is no longer safe. :( But don't worry, Booth will catch up to Andrew eventually...

**Misscruel**: I know, I know. I couldn't help myself...So here's the next update, and I hope to put up another chapter soon...Thanks for the review

**SweetFavoriteThings**: Thanks, and I hope you enjoy this update...it will only get more intense from here...

**Fearlee**: Sorry! Hopefully this one won't be as painful as the last one...Thanks for reading...

**TheLuckyLlama17**: Yes, the cliffhanger...Fear Herself can tell you that it's something I'm very addicted to. ;)...As I've mentioned, Andrew has a lot of plans for Sweets, none of them good...And you're right in thinking that Booth is not the type to not place some blame on himself for the situation.

**Abandon-Morality**: This is next. ;) I hope you enjoy the update.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 13

When he was unable to get any sort of response from Sweets' cell phone, Booth picked up his speed even more. As they sped down the highway, Booth and Brennan were both silent, each of them trying to process what had just happened in their own way.

Several minutes later, Booth was the first to arrive at the scene, but a couple of other cars soon arrived with additional agents as Booth got his bullet-proof vest out of his trunk and strapped it on. Booth had found out what room Sweets was staying in while trying to find out about Agent Coel on the way there, so he was ready to lead the way toward Jensen. An agent let Booth know that everyone was ready, and Booth nodded and turned to Brennan.

"Stay here," he said as he pulled out his gun. "I don't need you joining Angela in the hospital." Brennan looked like she was about to protest, but then Booth moved closer to her.

"Please just stay here," he said again. "I know you want to go in, and believe me, I get why you do. But let me handle this, ok? I'll let you know where things stand the minute I know, all right?"

"All right," Brennan said, leaning back against the car, her reluctance clearly written on her face. Booth nodded and joined up with the other agents, who were waiting for him. Booth soon gave a signal, and all of them charged toward Sweets' hotel room.

* * *

At that moment, Sweets was feeling highly disoriented. He knew that he had lost consciousness at some point, but was finding it hard to remember or grasp anything else. He was able to discern that he was in a dark, cramped space, and he had the odd sensation of moving although he was pretty sure that he was lying still. He tried to reach out to the spaces around him, but found himself unable to move or even speak. The psychologist tried harder to think straight, but he was hit with the overwhelming sense of being outside of his own body.

'_Am I dead?'_

'_No, I couldn't ask that if I were actually dead….So maybe I'm dying, then?'_

'_But if I am dying….where am I now?'_

Sweets found it impossible to begin to figure out the answer to these questions, so he let himself drift off to unconsciousness again.

* * *

Back at the hotel, Booth watched as an ambulance and the forensics teams began to go about their work. He had just explained the situation to Brennan a few minutes ago, and she had gone off to make a phone call to the Jeffersonian.

When Booth had burst into the hotel room, there in the front room area was a body of a man, who had been shot in the head. Although there was not much of a face left with which to make identification, Booth was pretty sure the body would turn out to be Burnet. Agent Coel had been found, unconscious and tied up in a corner of the room. She had a severe concussion from her head wound, but otherwise appeared unharmed. An ambulance had been called for her, and they were now in the process of taking her to the hospital.

When Booth got to the bedroom, he had found that the bathroom door had been badly damaged and broken down. On the floor was Sweets' cell phone, shattered into many pieces, however, there was no other sign of the psychologist anywhere.

Now Booth was waiting outside as the other agents rounded up the hotel staff and any possible witnesses in the area. The agent knew that Jensen had a head start since he had already left with Sweets by the time he had gotten there, so he was hoping that someone might have seen something that could give them a hint as to where to look next.

Booth sighed and ran his hand over his face. He couldn't get Sweets' panicked voice or Jensen's taunting out of his head.

'_Why didn't I see this sooner? I should have stayed with him. Now that psycho has him...God only knows what he's doing to him…and we're no closer to finding out where he's been hiding…'_

He pounded his fist against the hood of his SUV in an attempt to control his anger. He then looked up to see Brennan walking back over to him.

"Cam is coming to help process the scene," she said. "And she said something about having some extra help when she gets here so we can better go over the scene."

"That…that's great, Bones," Booth said, turning away from her.

"We will find something, Booth," Brennan assured him. "The best and the brightest work at the Jeffersonian."

"I know," the agent said, slumping his shoulders.

"We'll find him," Brennan said. "With all of us working together, there is no possibility of Jensen remaining hidden for very long. We will find Sweets soon."

Booth nodded in agreement, but his expression remained grim.

'_We may find Sweets….but will he still be alive when we do?'_

Any further reflection was halted when one of the other agents walked up to them.

"Agent Booth, we've got the hotel manager and a couple of witnesses who say that they saw a car speeding away from here a little while ago. Good chance that's the one we're looking for. We've got them waiting in the lobby for questioning."

"Good," Booth said, straightening up. "I want to go talk to these people myself…Oh and tell the others that when the Jeffersonian crew gets here, they are to have full access to the crime scene, got that?"

The agent nodded and walked off. Booth began to follow him, but stopped to turn toward Brennan again.

"Your squints better find something," he said before he stormed off.

* * *

While his thought remained jumbled and confused, Sweets eventually found himself able to dream.

_It had been six months since he had been adopted, and Lance had started back to school again for the fall. Lance was no longer afraid of leaving the house or spending time away from his parents, but he was far from no longer being anxious or scared. _

_One night as he was getting ready for bed, Lance made the declaration that he wanted to sleep in his own room that night instead of sleeping with his parents in their room. David had looked surprised by the decision, but said nothing. So that night, his parents had tucked him in to sleep, making sure to leave his nightlight on for him, and left him alone in his bedroom. _

_Lance had tried to sleep, but found that every sound and every flicker of shadows made him nervous. He tried closing his eyes, but could not keep them closed for long, even after burying himself under his blankets. After a while he became angry and saddened, and had begun to cry into his pillow. Soon he could sense someone come into the room. He looked up to see David sit down beside him on the bed. Lance pushed his face back into his pillow, and his father began to tousle his hair._

'_Hey now, sport, what's wrong?' David murmured. _

'_I…I can't sleep,' Lance wept, his voice muffled by his pillow. 'Every time I try to go to sleep, I get so scared…Why can't I stop being scared?'_

'_Lance…if you still need some time, you are welcome to sleep in our room tonight with us," David soothed. Lance finally turned over and sat up in his bed._

'_Dad…do you think I'm dumb or weak…for being like this?' Lance asked him while looking down at his bed sheets._

'_Of course, I don't think that,' his father responded. 'You are very far from either of those things. Why do you ask?'_

'_I…I was at school the other day, and a bunch of the kids were making fun of Bobby Synder 'cause he said that he needed a nightlight to sleep because he was afraid of monsters,' he answered. 'Everyone said that he was dumb and a sissy.' Lance squirmed a bit._

'_I mean…that's dumb, right?" Lance said. 'To be scared of monsters when there's no such thing?'_

'_Who's to say that there aren't any monsters?' David said. Lance finally looked up at him, shocked. David had always made it a point to never talk down to him, and Lance was surprised that his father would propose such a childish thing._

'_Sport…I know that you know that monsters like the ones you read about in books or see on television don't exist,' his father said putting his arm around Lance and pulling him close. 'But that does not mean that there is no evil in the world….and I know that you know about that too. Evil has a way of making some people into something very much like monsters.' David then reached over and gently tilted Lance's chin up so that he could look him in the eye. _

'_I know that those are the kinds of monsters that you are afraid of, and that certainly does not make you dumb or weak,' David said firmly. 'The fact is, you are a strong, brave boy, and I know that you will find a way to stand up to the monsters you encounter in your life. In the meantime, your mother and I will happily give you any help you need while you find your strength.'_

_Lance leaned over and embraced his father, who held him tightly. After a moment, Lance looked back up at him._

'_Dad…I do want to try to sleep in here tonight,' he said as he laid back down. 'But…could you stay for a while? Just until I fall asleep?' David got up and pulled a chair over to Lance's bedside._

'_Of course I'll stay, sport,' he smiled as he sat down. 'I'll stay as long as you need me to.'_

As the dream ended, Sweets wished that he could stay locked up in these memories, but instead began to fall into oblivion and darkness.

* * *

Booth continued to interrogate people at the scene, and Brennan waited outside for the arrival of Cam and the rest of the Jeffersonian staff.

The anthropologist found that she didn't care for this feeling of helplessness while she waited, and longed to get back to the lab so that she could get back to work. But even though she was convinced that she would be of greater use at the Jeffersonian, a part of Brennan found it impossible to completely focus on the forensics of this case. For that reason, she found some strange comfort that she could stay close to Booth.

Brennan tried to sort out why she felt the way she did and it suddenly occurred to her that Sweets would have a number of theories to explain her feelings. But that thought brought forth an unexpected sadness in her.

Brennan leaned back again Booth's SUV and shook her head. She knew that she needed to remain calm and rational to be better able to help Sweets, but standing here with nothing to do made her unavoidably reflective. She had disliked and distrusted the field of psychology and its methods for years. Still, she couldn't deny that Sweets had helped her find ways to better understand the people around her even if she felt no closer to truly understanding herself.

Her mind drifted back to the night when Wyatt had told her and Booth that Sweets was looking for "a family". The first thing that had come to her mind was the tendency for ducklings to imprint on the first living thing that they see. Wyatt had just told her that Sweets' adoptive parents had passed away right before he started working with her and Booth. Since it was clear that Sweets was attached to the two of them and since they were among the first people who he became close to after his parents' deaths, Brennan thought that the idea of the psychologist "imprinting on them like a baby duck" seemed like a good analogy.

Even as Wyatt questioned her thought process, Brennan had been unexpectedly filled with an overwhelming desire to find a place for Sweets in her life and her team's lives. Over time, as Brennan watched Sweets become an integral part of their lives, she began to question her original assumption of the therapist clinging blindly to them in an attempt to find a loose approximation of a family unit.

'_Imprinting implies that Sweets took to us even though he is nothing like us,'_ Brennan began to ponder_. 'But perhaps…he is more like us than we originally thought…So it would not so much be imprinting…more like he had joined our "tribe"…a tribe he was meant to belong to.'_

"Doctor Brennan?"

The anthropologist looked up to see Cam walking toward her with a forensics suit already on. She had her kit slung over her shoulder and had another suit from Brennan in her hand. Beside her was Hodgins, also in his suit.

"Hodgins? I thought you were staying with Angela at the hospital?" Brennan asked.

"I was…until I heard from Cam what happened here," the entomologist nodded. "There's no way I'm going to sit back and do nothing while that bastard has Sweets….Besides, Ange would never forgive me if I didn't come. And she wanted me to let you know that she will be back to the lab tomorrow."

"I was also able to get you some additional help," the pathologist said with a slight smile. Cam turned and waved, and soon Wendell, Arastoo, and Fisher appeared behind her.

"Mr. Bray…I thought you were visiting family this week," Brennan said, surprised. "Mr. Vaziri…you said that you needed to leave DC to meet with some people who were important for research related to your dissertation…And Mr. Fisher, I thought you were on break."

"Doctor Saroyan called me before I had a chance to leave town." Wendell answered. "When she told me what was going on, I figured you might need a hand…Besides, Doctor Sweets seems like a good guy, so I wanted to help him out."

"I re-scheduled my appointments when Doctor Saroyan told me what happened," Arastoo answered. "I will never forget the understanding and insight Doctor Sweets showed me while I was adjusting to working at the Jeffersonian, and so there was no way I could refuse to help him."

"Even though friendships, like all other things, are destined to the dark void of nothingness, they are important enough to hold onto for as long as one humanly can," Fisher said. "I consider Doctor Sweets a friend and want to help you stop the psychopath who has abducted him."

"Thank you…all of you," Brennan said with a hint of a smile. "After we process this scene, there will be a great deal of work that will need to be taken care of at the lab, so expect to be there for as long as it takes."

* * *

Sweets felt himself waking up again, but he had no desire to open his eyes.

The psychologist was relieved that he could think straight again, but now he was afraid of what he would discover about his current situation if he were to open his eyes.

As his minded continued to clear, Sweets thought back to what had happened before this point. He remembered being on the phone with Booth, and Andrew pounding on the door of the bathroom. Booth had told him to keep the door shut, and Sweets tried to comply by bracing himself up against the doorway. After one last great effort to break in, Andrew shot at the door, making the therapist jump away from it for fear of getting hit. That was all Jensen needed to finally kick the door in and burst inside.

Despite the fact that he was quite a bit shorter than Sweets, Andrew's sheer ferocity made him able to get the jump on the psychologist. Andrew struck him in the head with his gun. While Sweets struggled to clear his head, he felt Andrew plunge a needle into his neck. That slight sting soon faded as Sweets became aware that there was something in that syringe that was filling him with a strange paralyzing sensation. He was pretty sure he heard Booth calling his name, but he lost consciousness before he could respond.

Sweets' head still throbbed so he tried to put a hand to it, but found that he couldn't move his arms. After the swift realization that he was no longer in the grip of that bizarre drug-induced paralysis, the psychologist finally opened his eyes so that he could see what was going on.

He blinked as he opened his eyes at a faint light. Soon Sweets was able to see that the light was coming from a light bulb attached to a stripped down fixture from the ceiling. Through his slowly dissipating haze, Sweets saw that he was in a bare room of grey cement walls and no windows. There was a single door at the other side of the room with a small stairwell leading to it.

The psychologist tried to move again, but quickly became aware that he was lying on a bed with his arms pinned above him, his wrists hand-cuffed to the bars of the headboard. He saw that his ankles were also tied down with rope that was attached to the baseboard, making him unable to move his legs more than an inch or so. He tried opening his mouth so that he could call out, but it had been taped shut with duct tape.

As complete awareness of his situation came to him, Sweets instinctively struggled against his bonds, trying desperately to break free. But it was no use, and after several minutes of struggle, he gave up.

The door then opened, and Andrew walked in with a grin on his face. He shut the door and moved to sit beside Sweets on the bed. He then grabbed a handful of the psychologist's hair and yanked on it so that Sweets would be forced to look at him.

"Hello Lance," Andrew said. "It's time the two of us had a talk."


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Next chapter. I tried to not have such an evil cliffhanger this time, but I think we are reaching the point of no return as far as that sort of thing goes. ;) So enjoy one of my longest updates ever...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again, to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**TimeWitch93:** Torches and pitchforks do seem apropos for Andrew at this point. I'm sure they will fit in with all the other weapons that others will be bringing. Things will be taking a dark turn for a while, but you can be sure that B&B and all the squints won't be giving up any time soon. :)

**LadyKale1985:** Thanks as always for the reviews. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**Lives in the now:** I figured that Sweets probably had an impact at the Jeffersonian that reached beyond people like Cam, Hodgins and Angela, thus the interns. And you're right in thinking that Sweets' insight and intelligence will make a difference as this continues. Thanks again for the review and the encouraging PM that you sent. :D

**Super Ario: **Yes, as mentioned, things are going to get darker at this point. And Andrew is a creepy guy, so no surprise there. Thanks as always for all the support. :D

**RandyKorn: **Sorry about the recent cliffhangers. Hopefully this chapter will be a bit of a relief. And as for sledgehammers and flamethrowers...Why not? It will help light up all those torches that will be needed. ;)

**D:** I won't worry about that. As a psych major, I get to spend lots of time contemplating those kinds of disturbing psychological elements. As dark as they are, they are quite fascinating...I'm glad that you enjoyed my "tribal" analogy for Brennan. It seems like something she would come up with, doesn't it? And I like your notion of Sweets being the tribe's shaman. Shaman heal, but also give wise instruction and direction to others in their care. An apt description of Sweets, I think. :)

**Cobalt6233: **Well we all know how much Booth feels the need to take on responsibility for those he's in charge of...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. :D I agree with you about the official little brother bit (especially in light of recent episodes of Bones), and him saying goodbye would have had too much finality for Booth. Enjoy this latest chapter as well.

**AbandonMorality:** I expect that you may feel the same way after this chapter is over. Thanks for reading.

**Buttercups3: **It made perfect sense to me to have Arastoo and Fisher help out considering their interactions with Sweets during Season Five. And I'll admit that Wendell was added just because it seems like something he would do and because I was inspired by our fic that we are working on...Thanks for your comments on the emotions of the team. I am able to take comfort in knowing how everything turns out, so the trick for me is conveying that anxiety for the characters and the readers...And I have a feeling that many readers are in your position...wanting to see what happens next, but dreading it a little at the same time.

**Fearlee**: Sorry, sorry. Maybe this chapter will go down easier. And as you will see, we are getting closer to answering your questions.

**iEaTNekkozzz: **Thank you for all of your recent reviews along with favorites and alerts. :D I hope you enjoy the rest of my work as well...As for Andrew, I can say that there will be some retribution coming...I just won't say when or how it's coming. Enjoy this latest chapter. :D

**Blazing Rubellite**: Actually many of my loyal readers will tell you that I'm notorious for my use of cliffhangers. They are a weakness of mine, I'll admit...And feel free to join the Andrew Hunting Posse. They are always looking for new recruits who want nothing more than to make Andrew suffer. ;)

**Misscruel: **Sorry this update took longer. Thanks for all your reviews. :)

**Fear Herself:** Thank you. :D I have a great love for getting into people's heads, so it's something I enjoy bringing to my fics...As to how soon they will find Sweets...wait and see. And by the way, no fair to bring a whole army of woodland creatures against just me. ;P

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 14

After thoroughly processing the scene, Brennan and her team began to pack their things up so they could return to the Medico-Legal lab. As she began to walk away from the scene, Booth walked quickly out from the hotel lobby and went over to meet her.

"Hotel manager says that no one came to the front desk asking about any other guests," Booth said. "Burnet probably told Jensen their room number. So that leaves out the staff as potential witnesses. But we were able to get a make and color of a car that was seen speeding away from the scene from some of the guests, and there's some surveillance cameras around that might have caught something. Our guys are going to go over them, and I'll make sure to send copies for Angela to look at once she's back in the lab."

"Hodgins and my grad students were able to find a lot of particulates and trace evidence in the hotel room," Brennan responded. "We're taking everything to the lab for analysis."

"Ok, you guys get on that and call me the second you know anything useful," the agent nodded. "I'm going to follow up on some leads of my own. I'll stop by later to see what you've got."

"All right. See you then, Booth," the anthropologist said as she walked away. Booth watched her leave and then pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Agent Perotta?" he said once there was an answer. "It's Booth…Does the Bureau still have Browder in custody? Good, go ahead and move him to an interrogation room. I need to have another talk with him.

* * *

"You know, Lance, my old man used to say to me that a son is supposed to be the greatest gift a man will ever receive," Andrew said, his fingers still grasping some locks of Sweets' hair. "But I always had a feeling that he didn't really believe that…And after you were born…Well that was all the proof I needed to know that that was nothing but a big, fat lie."

Andrew stopped and stared at Sweets for a moment, and then he yanked the tape off his mouth. The psychologist flinched slightly, but showed no other reaction.

"Ever since you came into my life, you've given me nothing but grief," Jensen continued. "I mean, everything was going good until that whore gave birth to you. Then she showed me what a piece of trash she really was when she left in the middle of the night and stuck me with a squalling brat."

"Is that why you killed her?" Sweets asked. "To get back at her for what she did to you? To get even for the pain she caused you?" Andrew narrowed his eyes at him, and backhanded the psychologist in the face. Sweets felt his split lip reopen and begin to bleed again.

"Don't talk back to me," Andrew yelled. "You will speak only when I tell you to speak." Jensen stood back up and glared down at Sweets.

"I don't know what those geezers taught you while you were living with them," he added. "But the fact remains that I'm your father, and you will show me the proper respect."

"No," Sweets responded, his tone defiant. "You were never my father. David Sweets was my father. And no matter how many times you beat me, that will never change."

Jensen was silent for a moment and kept clenching his hands as he shook with rage. Then he suddenly took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, Sweets shuddered at the gleam of amusement that was present. Andrew then began to crack his knuckles.

"I see that you need to relearn some things that you've seemed to have forgotten," he said as he drew closer to the psychologist. "The funny thing is, I don't mind. I've been looking forward to having a chance to do this for years."

* * *

Back at the Hoover Building, Booth met up with Perotta, who had a file to give him.

"Has he said anything to you?" he asked her as he watched Browder through the glass of the interrogation room.

"Not really," Perotta answered. "Just keeps wondering if we are going to give him some kind of leniency in exchange for all of his 'assistance'. Is there something in particular you're looking for?"

Booth then informed her of everything that had happened at the hotel, including his theories about Burnet. She appeared stunned, but then shook her head as it sank in.

"I guess I'm not as surprised as I thought I'd be," she said once Booth was finished. "Burnet was always way too full of himself. Still…a part of me can't believe that he went that far….By the way how's Coel?"

"She's going to be fine," Booth answered. "She'll be out for a while though."

"And Doctor Sweets?" Perotta swallowed. "Do you…do you think he's…?"

"There was no body at the scene," Booth answered dully. "Procedure says we should assume that he's alive for now. So we're going with that."

"What can I do?" she asked.

"I need you to find some information," Booth said.

* * *

Almost a half hour later, Booth walked into the room where Browder was sitting. This time the dealer looked even more agitated, if not terrified at the agent's presence.

"Look, what do you want from me?" Browder squeaked. "I told you everything you wanted to know. How long are you going to keep me here?"

"Until you stop holding out on us," Booth answered. The agent sat down a file he had brought in onto the table and glanced through it for a second before returning his gaze to Browder.

"What was your connection to James Burnet?" he said as he looked up.

"Who?"

Booth pulled out a photo from the file and slid it across to the dealer with a finger.

"FBI Agent James Burnet," Booth repeated. "We know that your friend Jensen knew him. We were able to find a disposable cell phone in Burnet's possession. The last call on it was to another disposable cell phone. And guess what? They match up with a batch of cell phones we found in your house. So…when are you going to start talking?"

Browder gulped and kept twisting his fingers about on his lap. His eyes darted around the room as if he was looking for a way out, but could find none. He shuddered as he looked back to see Booth still giving him a venomous stare.

"Ok, look, how many times do I have to say it? Andrew is no friend of mine," he said finally. "And as for that other stuff…well you wouldn't have believed me if I had told you."

"Try me now," the agent growled. Browder swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

"When…when Andrew first started working for me, he really didn't stand out all that much," Browder said. "In fact, I was kind of looking for an excuse to ditch him. I just never got around to it because, well…he's not the sort of guy who's pleasant to be around when he's mad. Plus, he's surprisingly crafty at times…Not a great combination."

"Go on," Booth hissed.

"Anyway, I found out at one point that Andrew had been working freelance and had somehow managed to get friendly with some people who worked with my biggest competitors," the dealer said. "At first, I'm freaking out, thinking that Andrew's looking for a way to shut me down. But then one day he comes to me and says that he has a proposal for me: I make him a full partner in my business and in exchange he 'takes care' of some of my competitors."

"And you went along with it?" the agent asked.

"I thought he was full of crap," Browder responded. "I mean, how's a guy like that going to take out such big operations? But then a week later, I'm watching the news and I see that some Fed was able to make this huge arrest, effectively dismantling a group of dealers who had been giving me trouble for a long time."

"And Agent Burnet was the person making that arrest?" Booth inquired.

"Exactly," Browder answered. "I read somewhere that he had gotten an anonymous tip…Some tip. It was Andrew, I was sure of it. So when he saw me again, I asked him about it, and let's just say he confirmed my suspicions. He told me that he had some kind of 'arrangement' with some Fed where he'd supply him with information about other meth labs as long as this agent stayed out of his backyard. Plus, Andrew guaranteed me that business would pick up due to some 'recommendations' he was able to make."

"So you gave him what he wanted," the agent nodded.

"Yeah I did," the dealer said. "And for a while it was working out great for everyone. My business was becoming more profitable, and that Fed got to be in the news as some kind of hero."

"And how was Jensen benefitting from all this?" Booth asked.

"Well he was getting a healthy cut of the cash along with whatever 'product' he wanted for his own personal use," Browder said. "Plus…I can't really put my finger on it, but I got the feeling that he was getting something else out of that Fed…I heard Andrew arguing with someone on the phone once, and I'm pretty sure it was this Burnet guy. Andrew said something like 'it's time you give me what you promised, or else'. Something like that anyway."

"And you didn't think it was important to mention any of this when I talked to you earlier?" Booth said growing angry. "You didn't think I'd want to know that you had an agent of the Bureau in your pocket?"

"Hey, you wouldn't have believed me if I told you any of this," Browder protested. "And…and…For all I know, you've got Burnet on the other side of that glass, and you're just waiting for the chance to turn him loose on me."

"Burnet's dead," Booth replied. "Shot by your buddy, Jensen."

"He killed him? Oh man…" Browder said, shaking a little as he mopped some sweat off his forehead. "Look…Andrew is not my buddy, all right? I had nothing to do with that. Andrew's insane. I mean you've seen what he's done, right?"

Booth regarded him silently for a moment and then leaned toward him.

"Where is he?" Booth said. After asking he got up and began to pace around the dealer.

"Andrew? I don't know where he is," Browder whined. "I told you, I haven't seen him in almost two weeks."

"He didn't give you any indication about where he was going or what he was doing?" Booth asked, stopping behind Browder and placing his hands on the back of his chair. "No hints at all. Because if I find out that you've been 'omitting' things again…."

"I swear there's nothing else to tell," Browder whimpered. "It's not like I kept tabs on the guy…Hey…Hey, you know who you should talk to? Jean. Jean was his woman at one time. He still might be talking to her. Jean Bergan is her name. She lives here in DC."

Booth went over and wrote the name down on in the file he had brought in and then closed it up. Suddenly he grabbed Browder by his shirt collar and yanked him close.

"If I find out that you haven't been straight with me, or that you shielded him in any way…Jensen will be the least of your problems," Booth hissed at him. Browder trembled at the icy glint in the agent's eyes and shook his head vigorously. Booth let him go and grabbed the file as he stormed out of the room.

Once he was in the hallway, he met up with Perotta.

"FBI techs just gave me this," she said as she opened a file. "They didn't find much of interest at the scene other than the fact that Burnet's wallet and badge were missing."

"What about his gun?" Booth asked.

"Hadn't been touched," Perotta answered. "Kind of weird, isn't it? That he would go to the trouble of stealing the wallet and badge but leave the gun alone. Do you suppose he needed money?"

"No," Booth said. "Browder mentioned that Jensen had been having a generous cash flow for a while, plus he took a bunch more from him before he disappeared. So he shouldn't be hurting for funds. No, there's something else going on there….Have you found out any more about Burnet and the stuff he was doing?"

"Well the situation around here is pretty tense with Burnet having been an agent and all," she said. "But I was able to find out about some files that Burnet had pulled. You were right, Burnet had made copies of the Bureau's files on Doctor Sweets….and he managed to get a little info on your people at the Jeffersonian."

"And?" Booth asked, sensing there was more.

"Burnet also accessed some of your information," Perotta said somberly. "He didn't get as much on you as he did Doctor Sweets…but you may want to take some precautions, just in case."

"Send a couple of agents over to Rebecca's house and make sure that she and Parker stay there," Booth said pulling out his cell phone. "I'm going to call over there and make sure they're ok and explain the situation to them."

"I'm on that," Perotta said. "Anything else I can do?"

"Yeah, track down this woman," Booth said handing her his file and showing her the name he had written down. "Jean Bergan. Browder said that she was in a relationship with Jensen, so there's a chance that she might know something."

"All right," she nodded. "And where are you going?"

"To the Jeffersonian," he answered. "I'm going to see if Bones or any of her squints have found something our guys might have missed." He had begun to walk away when Perotta tapped his arm.

"Booth…listen…we're going to find him," she said. "Those people at the Jeffersonian…they always come through. And I know that they'll be even more determined this time to find something…And besides that, Doctor Sweets is a smart guy. If there's a way to psych Jensen out, he'll think of it."

Booth nodded, and then turned to leave. After making a quick call to Rebecca to check on Parker, he settled into his SUV and sped off down the road.

Normally he would agree with Perotta. Sweets did seem to have a way to get inside people's heads. Even much to the agent's discomfort at times. Still, Booth couldn't shake the feeling that Jensen had some kind of edge in this situation since he had nearly broken Sweets as a child. At first Booth felt angry that Sweets was probably re-living some of the worst parts of his early childhood, but that soon veered toward concern over how Andrew could damage Sweets both physically and mentally.

The agent gripped the wheel even tighter. One thing he was sure of was the fact that he would make Jensen pay for whatever he did….one way or another.

* * *

Sweets found himself alone again in the dark, and he was grateful for the respite.

Andrew had just spent over an hour beating him relentlessly. When Jensen tired of using his fists, he took to using his belt to deliver the blows. Sweets tried to remain as stoic as he could throughout, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But toward the end, it had been impossible for him to stop himself from crying out in pain a couple times.

One thing that he had been able to do was not give in to Andrew's demands. Over and over, Jensen had taunted him to cry, scream or beg for mercy, but Sweets refused to say a word. Then Andrew insisted that the psychologist acknowledge him as his father, but again Sweets remained silent, only speaking to insist that David was his father and that no one else ever would be. Eventually he tired of hitting him, and left the therapist alone.

As he lay there, Sweets moaned as he tried to block out the pain. Other than his initial blow to the face, Andrew had avoided his head; however, no other part of him was safe from Andrew's beatings. Sweets mused on the thought that that might have been due to some old habit from when he was a child, and Jensen was careful to hit him in places where the resulting injuries wouldn't be seen by other adults. Sweets was sure that there would be masses of bruises and welts all over his body.

Now that he was alone, Sweets felt himself starting to pass out from the pain. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing, but even that was difficult since he was sure that Andrew had broken some of his ribs.

After what had felt like only a few minutes, Sweets jerked about in response to water being splashed onto him. His eyes flew open, and he saw Andrew standing over him, pouring a giant bucket of water, that was filled with ice onto him. When he was finished, Sweets lay there, gasping and shivering violently.

"Uh uh, Lance, we can't have you falling asleep," Andrew grinned as he sat the bucket down. "Then you'd miss out on all the fun." Jensen then pulled a syringe that had been filled with a clear liquid out of his pocket. He torn the sleeve on Sweets' shirt and jabbed the needle into his arm.

"There now," Andrew said as he injected the liquid into Sweets' arm. "I think this will help you stay focused on the things you need to listen to."

As the drug coursed through his blood, Sweets felt his breathing slow down and his mind drifting off. As he felt panic rise up within him, Sweets was unsure if it was the drug causing it or if it was his own fear over what Andrew had in store for him next.

* * *

Whatever hopes Booth might have had about a break in the case were quickly dashed away when he found Brennan in her office, looking over some reports on her computer screen. He sat down on the couch, and his mood did not lift as she reported all of the things everyone had done thus far.

"Hodgins is pretty sure that some soil from a shoe print at the scene was from Jensen due to the print's size and indentation on the carpet," she said. "He's hoping to narrow down the areas that it could have come from by comparing it to samples we already have."

"What about the rest of your squints?" Booth asked sourly.

"They are still running tests, but it's a lot to sort through, Booth," she said. "We still had a lot of things to go over with the other three victims." Booth nodded and slumped down into the couch, scowling. Brennan got up and joined him there. She hated seeing him so upset, but was unsure as to how to improve his mood. After a couple of moments of pensive silence, inspiration finally struck the anthropologist.

"My grad students will be busy gathering evidence for a few hours before I will be able to make any conclusions," she said. "Perhaps now the two of us could pursue some other lines of investigation."

"Other lines of investigation?" Booth said, quizzical. "Your people are looking over all the forensics, and I've got at least a dozen agents tracking down any leads that Browder and Burnet could give us. What else is there?"

"I'm not sure," Brennan frowned. "I suppose if Doctor Sweets were here, I would recommend talking to him, but since he isn't…"

Brennan was cut off when Booth nearly leapt to his feet and started to leave her office. Brennan got up and followed him out the door.

"What is it Booth?" she asked as they walked along.

"What you said, Bones," Booth responded. "In a way, Sweets is here…And I know who we need to talk to."

* * *

After a quick cell phone call, Booth and Brennan drove back over to Wyatt's restaurant. It was after hours, but the lights were still on inside. Booth rapped on the door, and the maitre'd let the two of them in.

Once inside, Booth and Brennan found the chef sitting at a large table at the back of the dining room. He was not alone. Sitting next to him was a man who looked to be in his mid-20s with sandy brown hair and vivid green eyes. The two of them stood up as Booth and Brennan approached. Brennan noted that the man was broad shouldered and around 6'4, but what grabbed her attention was the man's facial features. They seemed familiar to her, and she struggled to place them.

Booth was also watching the person standing next to the chef. He noticed that the man had a quiet but piercing stare, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being sized up.

"Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan," Wyatt smiled. "I was just getting ready to telephone you when you called. Any pertinent updates on the case? And how is Doctor Sweets getting along these days?"

"Doctor Sweets has been kidnapped by Jensen," Brennan said, not moving her gaze from the man beside Wyatt.

"Bones!" Booth hissed.

"What?" the man said, his expression swiftly becoming angry. "I thought he was under FBI protection. How could he be kidnapped?"

"I don't know who you are, but this is a federal investigation," Booth said, narrowing his eyes and taking a step closer. "And we are not going to discuss…"

"Wait, Booth…I think I know who he is," Brennan said moving closer.

"Bones, what are you…?"

"The similarities in the zygomatic arch and shape of the mandible along with hair and eye color are quite striking," the anthropologist continued, staring closely at the man's face. "I'm convinced that this man is a close relation to Sweets' adoptive father. A son or a nephew, perhaps?" The man took a deep breath and gave a slight, but sad smile.

"Lance told me about you, and now I can see what he means when he said that you're the best at what you do," he said. He then held out his hand to her.

"Staff Sergeant Peter Sweets, at your service. Lance Sweets is my cousin."


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Yes, another chapter already. :D But this may be the last one for a bit...we'll see...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

As always, thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**TheLuckyLlama17:** I think a lot of people are there actually...wanting to see an update, but worried about what's coming next. And things won't stop being suspenseful any time soon. ;)

**Lives in the now:** Yeah, B&B and the others are the best, and they will find Sweets. The question is...how will Sweets be when that happens? Thanks for the reviews.

**Super Ario:** Actually Peter is supposed to be a lot like David, but then again, David's supposed to be like Booth as well...So it all works out. :D Either way, I enjoy bringing both him and Wyatt back into this fic. Glad to see you enjoying it too.

**iEaTNekkozzz:** I figured that my readers would be anticipating Peter's eventual appearance in this fic. And yes, Peter is a big guy, but a bit of a softie at heart. ;D

**Sweetfavoritethings: **Thank you. :) I have a couple of beginner's manuals to forensics along with a little knowledge of anatomy due to my psych studies. I try to use all of that to give my fics a little more of an authentic feel of the show, so I'm happy that you enjoy the results. :D I hope you enjoy this update as well.

**Cobalt6233: **As B3 pointed out, I had planned to introduce Peter to the rest of the team at some point and this seemed like a good way to go. :) Thank you for the review.

**D:** Yes, that is annoying...Of course, I've had it spontaneously devour updates to my documents on the site, and that is never fun either...And you're right, Andrew was not going to be merciful with Sweets, no matter what he did...The need for Jensen to be acknowledged as Sweets' father certainly runs along those lines, but also runs even deeper than that...

**Fearlee:** Thanks. :) And I'm sure that you were glad that I didn't have a horrible little cliffhanger at the end of that one. Can't promise that it will stay that way. ;)

**Abandon-Morality: **Yes, even though he doesn't appear very often, Peter does play a role in Sweets', and I figured that there was no way he would stay out of something like this.

**Buttercups3: **Yes, and you can expect things to continue is this darker vein for a little while...And you are exactly right in how Andrew has projected a lot of his negative thoughts, feelings and experiences onto his son. This is a problem that is the result of life-long issues that Jensen has had...And I'm with you in thinking that it will be difficult for Booth or Peter to show any restraint if they were to get their hands on Andrew.

**Blazing Rubellite:** Well here's another chapter to help with that suspense. :D As for a novel...right now college is tying up a lot of my time, and fic-writing is one of the few hobbies I have time for. But I'm thinking of trying it at some point...

**Fear Herself:** I wouldn't worry. Andrew is bringing out a lot of readers' violent tendencies. ;)...And hey, I gladly take the sniper over the squint in this case...Oh and, I'm surprised that you were the only one who commented on the potential for more cliffhangers...All I can say is sorry in advance. ;)

The Measure of Spirit—Chapter 15

'_You are a worthless shell of a human being…You could hardly even call yourself a man…You're nothing….And no matter where you go or what you do, you'll always be a pitiful excuse of a person.'_

'_No…please stop…'_

Fully caught up in the grip of the drug he was injected with, Sweets found himself unable to move or speak again. At first he had panicked as the drug took hold of him. His heart raced, and he was unable to take a full breath. That finally ended when he felt like he was being wrenched away from his own body. For a while, Sweets had thought that he had been given too much and was dying from an overdose. But then Andrew's voice started running through his mind, flooding his thoughts.

'_Pathetic…You don't even have a life of your own…You actually have to cling to your patients just to find people who will have anything to do with you…Do you think they enjoy having you butt into their lives They only tolerate you because they have to….'_

Sweets wanted to stop listening to Andrew's voice and stop thinking those thoughts, but his mind wasn't able to focus on anything else. Now that the seed was planted, Sweets couldn't stop dwelling on them.

'_The only reason I met all of them was because I had been assigned to treat Booth and Brennan,'_ he thought. '_Would they have wanted to associate with me if they had just met me outside of that situation? Would they have wanted to work with someone so young and inexperienced?'_

Sweets' mind flashed back to that first night of therapy. It was clear that neither of them were comfortable with being there albeit for different reasons. They had only come because the Bureau had demanded that they do so.

'_Like it or not Agent Booth, I'm the therapist in charge of this case. So I suggest we work in cooperation rather than conflict.'_

'_I can cooperate.'_

Pragmatic acceptance of the situation had been Brennan's first response to the situation. Eventually, Booth reluctantly acceptable the inevitable and had cut down on his initially hostility. But Sweets knew that both of them were more concerned about the possible dissolution of their cherished partnership than they were about extending him any sort of professional courtesy.

'_They cooperated because they had to. Not because they wanted to.'_

'_Not because of me or anything I ever did.'_

Slowly the drug's effects began to abate, and Sweets shuddered while he struggled to breathe normally.

'_What was I thinking? They're my patients….And I went too far. I intruded into their lives…Forced myself onto them and onto Brennan's co-workers. All because I'm too pathetic to find my own friends….Too needy to handle things on my own.'_

Sweets let his mind drift back to the torrent of Andrew's hateful words.

At this moment they were a lot less painful than the ideas he was forming on his own.

* * *

Back in Wyatt's restaurant, Brennan informed him and Peter of the current situation, with only occasional comments from Booth. The chef shook his head, concerned about what sorts of things Jensen could be putting the psychologist through.

As he listened, Wyatt's mind drifted back to some months ago when he and Sweets had lunch together at his chef's table during a lull in the restaurant's traffic. It was not long after the Connor case, and Wyatt was using the opportunity to check on the status of the young psychologist along with catching up on current events at the Jeffersonian. While it was clear Sweets had recovered physically from the incident, the chef couldn't help but notice the dark shadow that was affecting his demeanor.

* * *

'_Chef Wyatt…I appreciate having this chance to talk to you and all….and I know it's an imposition…but I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you,' Sweets asked. 'Actually…I need to ask for three favors.'_

'_Believe me, I appreciate your company as well, Doctor Sweets,' Wyatt had responded, pouring him a glass of wine. 'And it's not an imposition to make a request. I just ask that you give you me the chance to consider your requests before making any sort of commitment.'_

'_Fair enough,' Sweets nodded. The psychologist reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring. He laid his keys out in front Wyatt with one key pointing at the chef in particular. _

'_This is a key to a trunk I have stored in my apartment,' Sweets explained. 'It holds all the things that have the most value to me in this world….Including another key and instructions for a safety deposit box which has all the paperwork from the trust my father created for me.' Sweets stopped and took a deep breath before continuing._

'_If…if anything happens to me, I'd like you to take possession of this key and that trunk,' he concluded._

'_To what end?' Wyatt inquired. 'While I am flattered at the thought that you would entrust me with something so valuable, I question my suitability for such a task. This seems like something that would be more appropriate for a family member to take on.'_

'_That brings me to my second request,' the psychologist added. Sweets took out his wallet and pulled out a card with a name along with some phone numbers and email addresses on it. He slid it across the table toward Wyatt._

'_I don't really have much in the way of family,' Sweets said somberly. 'My parents' family…there's not many of them left and most of them wanted nothing to do with me after my parents died…But I do have a cousin, Peter. He's in the Army, so I don't get to see much of him, but we keep in touch regularly and see each other when we can.'_

'_You're very close to this cousin, aren't you?' Wyatt said. 'Despite his relative absence in your life?'_

'_He…he's like the brother I never had,' Sweets said, swallowing hard. 'He's a really great guy…I want you to give him the key and the trunk. That card has his contact information.'_

'_And what if he is unable or unwilling to come and collect this very generous gift of yours?' the chef wondered aloud._

'_He'll come,' Sweets assured him. 'He will find a way…After all, we are the only family either of us have.'_

'_I dare say that you may be wrong in that assessment,' Wyatt countered. 'I believe that you have more family than you may realize…People who want what's best for you and who desire your happiness. They and this cousin of yours would be greatly saddened if any sort of misfortune were to befall you.'_

'_I…I know it will be difficult for Peter,' the psychologist gulped. 'He has a big heart…like my father did…even if he doesn't always show it….So that's why I have one last request.' Sweets looked down at the table while taking a sip of wine. After a moment of silence he looked back up again._

'_I know that this one is an even bigger request than the other two,' Sweets said. 'But I think that you're the one person who would be able to handle this…And I'm sure that you would make the best possible decisions….'

* * *

_

Wyatt sighed inwardly as his mind moved back to the present while Brennan was finishing up her report. He remembered agreeing to all three of Sweets' requests that day, but he was hopeful that he would not have to face that final request any time soon.

By the time Brennan had finished speaking, Peter's eyes glittered with anger.

"How could you let this happen?" he said, turning toward Booth. "Lance trusted you. He was always telling me that you are one of the finest agents he's met since working at the Bureau. And yet you weren't there for him when he needed you the most."

Booth said nothing in response because, truthfully, he couldn't deny that he had had similar thoughts ever since Sweets disappeared. Brennan, however, was not content to remain silent.

"Doctor Sweets was the one who requested Agent Coel's protection instead of Booth's," she retorted. "It's not Booth's fault if Sweets erroneously chose not to rely on Booth's superior skills. Obviously, Sweets didn't trust him as much as you think he did."

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but Wyatt held up a hand before he had a chance to speak.

"Actually, I'm afraid both of you are in error to some extent," the chef said. He then turned to Peter.

"Your cousin is the one who had himself removed from Agent Booth's care, and I suspect that he probably resorted to some sort of antagonistic way to ensure that Booth would comply with his demands," Wyatt said. "Thus, I would not hold Booth responsible for Doctor Sweets' decisions." He then glanced over at Brennan.

"However, the fact remains that Doctor Sweets does trust Agent Booth implicitly," the chef continued. "Sadly, he also fears his biological father a great deal. That deeply rooted fear, along with his grief and guilt over Miss Montenegro's injury, drove him to act rashly."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"Your cousin is very fond of the people he works with as you well know," Wyatt responded. "In fact, he's particularly fond of Booth and the lovely Doctor Brennan. It would be the greatest devastation to him if anything were to happen to either of them. Thus he decided to shield them the only way he could…by removing them from Jensen's line of sight by separating from them. He was merely trying to protect them."

"That sounds like Lance," Peter sighed, looking down at the table. "He's always trying to make himself secondary, even when he shouldn't. It's like he thinks that he doesn't deserve…." Peter stopped and rubbed his eyes.

"And…I know he's afraid of Andrew," Peter continued. "Uncle David told me some things about him and what he did….Lance tried to tell me more once, but he just couldn't." Peter shook his head and finally sat up straight and looked Booth in the eye.

"I'm sure you are doing everything you can to find him," he said. "And…I want to help you in any way possible." Booth nodded and turned to Wyatt.

"Gordon Gordon…were you able to get anything from that notebook I gave you from Sweets?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that I do not have very much to offer you from an investigative standpoint at this time," Wyatt replied. "But I shall continue to look for any sort of lead you could use. But I can tell you about one piece of insight which I think you should focus on right now."

"What's that?" Booth asked.

"This Jensen fellow has been waiting for a very long time for this opportunity to come along, and he has a lot of rage that he'll want to work out of his system," the chef answered. "Now that the moment has come, he will not squander it by simply disposing of Doctor Sweets the minute he is able to acquire him. No, I believe that he has some darker, more elaborate scheme in mind."

"And how is this helpful?" Booth asked, feeling his stomach turn at the thought of Sweets having to endure some sort of prolonged torture.

"While it's true that he may be suffering now, the fact that Jensen has no intention of killing him immediately means that you have time to find him and save him before it's too late," Wyatt said. "Use that time and your resources available to you to the fullest instead of dwelling on the darkest possibilities."

Wyatt then stood up and the rest of them did the same.

"In the meantime I would like to offer any sort of assistance that I can," the chef said. "I will continue looking over Doctor Sweets' notes, and if you need in sort of help with interrogations, I'm available for that as well."

"Please, Agent Booth," Peter said stepping closer to the agent. "I know that this is a FBI investigation, but I'm asking that you don't keep me out of the loop. Please…as one soldier to another...let me help."

Wyatt tapped Booth's shoulder, and the two of them turned away from the others.

"I think you should consider his offer," Wyatt said in a low voice.

"He's a not an agent or a squint," Booth hissed. "He shouldn't get involved."

"But he is a highly skilled and decorated soldier," Wyatt added. "From what Doctor Sweets has told me about him, he is more than capable and could be invaluable to you now. Remember what I said…use any possible resources you have right now to the fullest."

Booth let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn't sure about this, but over the years he had learned to trust the instincts of both Wyatt and Sweets when it came to people. Plus, as a leader of men in both the FBI and the Army, Booth had developed a sense of when he could rely on someone, and Peter seemed to be that type of person.

Suddenly his cell phone rang, and the agent answered it.

"Booth…thanks, I'll go talk to her…No, you stay there and keep digging. I'll handle things from this end."

Booth flipped his cell phone shut and turned back toward everyone.

"That was Perotta," he said. "She was able to track down Jensen's old girlfriend. I'm going to go talk to her now."

"I should get back to the lab," Brennan said.

"I'll like to go with you, Agent Booth," Wyatt said. "If you don't mind."

"Ok, you're going with me after I drop Bones off at the lab," Booth said. He then turned to Peter. "Are you armed?"

"No, I left my side arm at the base," Peter answered.

"Well that's how it's going to stay if you want to be involved," Booth said. "You can come with us if you hang back and let us handle things, all right? No doing things yourself."

"Understood," Peter nodded. "And…thank you."

"All right, let's go," the agent said turning to leave. As they all walked to Booth's car, Wyatt had a slight smile on his face.

He was glad that he had decided to go ahead and call on Peter. The chef was confident that his presence would be good for the team and vital to Sweets' recovery.

* * *

Sweets moaned and tried to move around to a more comfortable position, temporarily forgetting about his bound hands and feet. The sudden constriction he felt was enough to nudge him back toward consciousness. He was fully thrust back into reality when Andrew dumped another bucket of ice water onto him.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Jensen taunted. "Did you have a nice dream?"

The psychologist shivered some more and began to cough. The dank, cold air in the room along with his repeated dousing of water was chilling him to the core. As tried to move his hands in a futile attempt to get warmer, Sweets noticed that one of his wrists was lighter than it should have been. He craned his neck over and saw that his watch was gone.

"Looking for something?" Jensen grinned.

"My watch…I…." Sweets stopped and coughed again, wincing at the pain that flared up in his ribs as he did so.

"Sorry, I'm afraid that I got rid of it," Andrew chortled. "But if it makes you feel any better, I did manage to get a good price for it. Besides, you're not going to need it after we're done here."

'_After he kills me,'_ Sweets thought to himself. His mind then went back to the missing watch. It was a gift that David had given to him right before he left for England to fulfill his Rhodes scholarship. Sweets remembered his father wearing that watch for years while growing up, and he knew how significant it was when David gave it to him.

Sweets felt his eyes water up. The watch was one of his most prized possessions. He thought about how he had lost it before and how he couldn't express his gratitude enough when Angela's psychic helped him find it. But now it looked as if Andrew had once again taken away one of his precious mementos from his life with his parents.

"What's the matter? Going to cry over a stupid watch?" Andrew jeered. "Pathetic…That's the problem with you. You're such a crybaby. You always were. You never could toughen up."

"Like you," Sweets sniffled trying to swallow his tears.

"What?"

"You…you couldn't be a crybaby, could you?" Sweets asked him. "Because of your father? Because he would never allow it?"

"There was no 'couldn't' about it because I never was one," Jensen sneered. "I'm not like you."

"But you are, aren't you?" the psychologist replied. As he said it, Andrew flinched at how Sweets' eyes seemed to be looking right through him despite the fact that they were slightly clouded from drugs and pain.

"We're alike, you and I, in some ways," Sweets continued. "Your father…he was disappointed with himself and with life, so he took it out on you. And nothing you did would be good enough to stop him from doing that….So he beat you. While your mother…she was gone or…just looked the other way?"

Sweets saw a flicker of pain in Andrew's eye, and he had his answer.

"It had to have been difficult for you," he said. "Your father never showing you any mercy, and your mother acting like she didn't care."

"Shut up!" Andrew yelled, slapping him across the face. "You don't know me…You don't know me at all."

"You're right, I don't," Sweets wheezed. "Because it eventually stopped for me when my parents came into my life and took care of me…It never did stop for you…I can't imagine how difficult it was for you, enduring that kind of childhood."

Andrew gritted his teeth, and his hands shook while he listened to Sweets. He then covered his face and took huge gulps of air.

"You don't have to be like him, Andrew," Sweets said gently. "Just let me go…Do for me what your father could never do for you…Please."

Just then Andrew's head snapped back up, rage burning in his eyes. He jumped onto the bed and sat down on Sweets' torso. He then took the psychologist by the shoulders and began shaking him violently.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Andrew screamed at him, his face inches away from Sweets'. "I'm not you….Don't you dare tell me who I am…I'm your father, and I tell _**you**_ how things are."

The shaking made Sweets' already tortured muscles scream in agony while Andrew's sitting on him put even more pressure on his injured ribs. The pain soon became too intense to bear silently.

"Please stop…stop," Sweets cried out, tears finally spilling out of his eyes. "Please…"

To his surprise, Andrew abruptly let him go and got off the bed, all while staring at him with an unreadable expression. He watched Sweets cry for a couple minutes before giving him a nod and leaving the room. When he returned he had another syringe in his hand.

"Please…no more drugs," Sweets begged. "Please."

"I'm giving you a little break," Andrew said quietly, ignoring him. "We will pick up this discussion later. But for now…this will make you forget about the pain for a while."

Jensen leaned over and stabbed the needle into Sweets' arm. After he was finished, Andrew walked toward the door and turned off the light.

"I'll be seeing you later, Lance…Don't go anywhere." And with that, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sweets soon grew nauseous as the drug worked its way through his system and could feel bile rising up in his throat. He tried to turn himself over to the side, but was only somewhat successful and ended up vomiting partially onto the bed. After he was done, he rolled back over, and felt himself spiraling back to oblivion. A part of him wondered how much time had passed.

Another part of him had begun to believe that time didn't matter anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Well the next chapter came sooner than I though it would. :D So I thought I'd go ahead and put it out there before finally shifting my focus on other fics.

But I am adding the warning that this and the next couple of chapters are going to be very dark in tone and content and should be regarded with a high T rating.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. I am very grateful for all the support. :)

**Ladykale1985:** Yes...and I'm sorry to say that things will be even bleaker for a while...

**Sweetfavoritethings:** That to me is Sweets' greatest source of insecurity and anxiety...his ability to fit in with the B&B and the squints. On one hand, it's clear that the Jeffersonian gang has never been about purely professional relationships. But on the other hand, I'm thinking that Sweets is not used to a group of people being accepting of him in that way...Thus his need to hold to him despite whatever professional doubt he may have...Andrew is far from invincible and Sweets is standing up to him the one way he knows how...even as he falls on his instincts as a therapist...

**Peanutmeg:** Thanks, I hope you enjoy this update too. :) And unfortunately Andrew is tapping into what is perhaps one of Sweets' greatest weakness...his worries about his place on the team...

**TimeWitch93: **Peter has matured quite a bit since his introduction as a moody teenager in THotF. ;) And don't worry...everything that should turn out will eventually...

**Super Ario: **That's Sweets' gift: to be able to look into the minds and souls of people despite their defenses. I often think it's what gets under the skin of people like Booth and the rest of the Jeffersonian group, but it's also a trait they value in him. Right now it's his best form of self defense against Andrew...But you're right in pointing out that Andrew is not without his evil manipulative abilities as well...And yes, Wyatt and Peter are my favorite "guest characters" to bring into my fics now. ;)

**TheLuckyLlama17: **Sadly, you have nailed the tactic that Andrew is using to get to Sweets...time will tell how effective it will be...Thanks for all the reviews...

**Fearlee: **Ok, I managed to get another update in. :D I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**Buttercups3: **Yeah, I'm glad that I was able to get across the distortion of time that Sweets is feeling right now along with all the other ways he's grappling with reality...And I agree that Wyatt was probably just verbalizing what Booth already knew in his heart. But I sense that Wyatt feels the need to reassure Booth right now with all the guilt he's sure to be carrying around...And sorry, but things will be dark for a while longer before they become lighter again...

**Blazing Rubellite: **Yes, sorry...As some of my loyal readers will point out, I do like to draw out the tension to maximum effect...But I'm glad that you are enjoying the ride thus far, and hope you will enjoy this chapter as well. Thank you again for your kind and thorough review. :)

**iEaTNekkozzz: **Thank you. :) I have been known to spend way too free time watching and thinking about Bones, so I'm happy to see that all that study has not gone to waste.

**D: **Ooops, thanks for spotting that one...I cleared it up, so it should be corrected by now...Andrew has his own twisted reasons for doing everything, so chances are whatever he decides to do has less to do with Sweets and more to do with his own sadistic tendencies...As to how effective Sweets is in preventing Andrew's plan of action...I agree that Andrew will not have a change of heart, but at this point, surviving is an accomplishment considering what happened to everyone else Andrew has gotten his hands on...And believe me, Andrew will not neglect more psychological means of getting to Sweets for long...

**IceChips99:** Thanks for the review. :) And don't worry, even if it takes me a while I always finish my fics. As a reader of fanfic for years, I always hated it when an author left me hanging, so I'm determined to do the same to my readers.

**Abandon-Morality: **As you will soon see in this chapter...there is good reason to be worried...

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 16

After dropping Brennan off at the Jeffersonian, Wyatt, Peter, and Booth headed over to the address that Perotta had given them for Andrew's girlfriend. The sun was just starting to spread golden streaks of light over the horizon, and the traffic was surprisingly minimal making for a quiet ride for the three of them. The silence was finally broken when Peter cleared his throat.

"So…Lance tells me that you were an Army Ranger," Peter said. "Very impressive."

"Yeah…and I take it that you're still active?" Booth responded.

"Correct," Peter nodded. "Just got back from a stint in Germany. I'll probably end up staying in the States for now."

"And your superiors don't mind you taking this sudden time off?" Booth said, curious.

"Let's just say that I've banked quite a few favors during my time in the service," Peter said cryptically. "They understand why I needed the time off."

"Favors?" the agent snorted. Peter's eyes suddenly had a hard glint in response to Booth's questioning tone.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I can tell you that I've dedicated my life to my country and never took a single shortcut or received any special treatment," he retorted. "Any privileges I have I earned through years of service."

"I'm sure Agent Booth is not questioning your record and is merely trying to gauge your 'battle readiness' per se," Wyatt interrupted. "If he had the time to learn more about your time in the Armed Forces, it's quite certain that he would discover the same exemplary record that Doctor Sweets has mentioned to me more than once."

Booth kept his eyes on the road even as he kept moving his hands back and forth on the wheel. The truth was he wanted to trust Wyatt and Sweets' judgment about Peter, knowing that the high regard probably did not come without reason. But the current situation along with Peter's reticence made it difficult for the agent to get a good read on him.

He glanced over to see Peter take a deep breath and then give him a rueful smile.

"You're right, Chef Wyatt…I shouldn't have snapped," he said shaking his head. He then turned to Booth, his green eyes shining with intensity.

"Look…I know that I haven't been really forthcoming, but I've been involved in a lot of things…some of which I'm not really allowed to talk about," he said. "But I can tell you that I love my country, and I'm good at what I do. The only thing that means as much to me as all that is family…And Lance is the only family I have left now."

Peter slouched back down in his seat, shifting his gaze to the scenery speeding by his window.

"I know I've been tense, but it's because I'm worried about Lance," he continued. "Uncle David told me things about Andrew…enough to know that he's an evil, vile person. I just don't like to think about Lance being at the mercy of someone like that…And from what Lance has told me, I don't think you do either."

Booth twisted his head around and shifted in his seat. While he may have shared Peter's thoughts and feelings about the situation, he wasn't exactly comfortable about sharing them.

"When we get to Bergan's house, Gordon Gordon and I are going to ask the questions," Booth said instead. "I need you to hang back and let us work."

"Understood," Peter nodded.

"Very good then," Wyatt smiled while leaning back in his seat. He continued to watch both Booth and Peter, happy with how things were progressing between the two of them.

* * *

Sweets began to shake again in the frigid, dark room that he was trapped in. He tried not to move around much to avoid aggravating his injuries further. But whenever he started hallucinating again, Sweets found that staying still was nearly impossible to do.

At that moment, the psychologist kept trying to call out to the people that he was sure was in the room with him. He couldn't make out any faces, but he could have sworn that he could see vague forms of people milling around. After a while, the haze of grey, featureless people seemed to part and one figure in particular began to walk toward the bed. Sweets shuddered when he realized that it was Lillian.

'_Lance…Lance…why?'_ she asked, her voice sounding like it was coming from deep underwater.

"Lillian," Sweets croaked. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry that Andrew…"

Sweets stopped when he noticed that Lillian's features seemed to be sliding down her face. He watched in horror as her flesh seemed to melt away, like wax dripping down a candle. Soon all that was left was a bleached skeleton that still seemed to be staring at him.

'_Why did you turn your back on me? On your father?'_ the skeleton asked mournfully. '_Now you will have to join me….Join me in Hell for what we did…'_

The skeleton reached out a hand toward Sweets, who tried to scream. But he could only produce a strangled sobbing sound.

'_No…please….this isn't real…it's not real…'_

Sweets closed his eyes and continued to chant those phrases over and over, desperate to get that mangled voice out of his head.

'_It's not real….It's not….'_

'_Then neither are we, Lance.'_

Sweets' eyes shot back open, and instead of Lillian's skeleton, he saw the faces of the people he worked with at the Bureau and the Jeffersonian. The psychologist blinked, the faces didn't seem to have bodies attached to them, but still clearly had the features that he was so well acquainted with due to how much time he spent around them every day.

'_We're not here either,' _Cam's face said in the same distorted voice_. 'Nor would we want to be.'_

"Doctor Saroyan…I…"

'_You got me shot,' _Angela's face intoned. '_I could have been killed because of you. No good can come out of knowing you.'_

'_Yeah, why can't you leave us alone,' _Hodgins' faced suddenly jeered. '_You're always spying on us…being nosy…We were all fine before you came along.'_

"I'm sorry," Sweets said, his eyes filling with tears. "I just wanted to help…"

'_How could you expect to help?'_ Brennan's visage stated her lips not moving. '_You chose a meaningless profession that is useful to no one….You squandered your abilities. That is, if they were ever present in the first place.'_

Tears finally began to slide down the psychologist's cheeks. Over the years, he had gotten used to Brennan's ribbing of him and his field of discipline feeling that it was not the slightest bit indicative of how she actually felt about him. But this odd, otherworldly voice held no mirth or sarcasm, just hatred and disdain.

Soon all the other faces were gone, and Sweets was faced with a scowling Booth looking down at him.

"Booth…please…."

'_Save it Sweets.' _Booth's face snapped. '_I tried getting along with you, tried showing you respect, but look where it got me. You interfere with my life, try to end my partnership with Bones….And one of these days you'll probably get me killed, following one of your useless "psychological" leads…You can't even take care of yourself, and now you're probably expecting me to save you…Forget it. Good riddance, Sweets.' _

The psychologist clamped his eyes shut again, and tried to focus onto anything that would distract him to the voices he was hearing.

'_They're not here…It's not real…It's all in my mind….They'd let me go if they were here..'_

'_Right?'_

Even as he tried to shut the voices out of his mind, Sweets could not stop the doubt that was nagging at him.

'_Why would I think about all this….if part of me didn't already know that it was true?' _he asked himself. '_Maybe I'm just fooling myself into thinking they care….Or maybe they're just being nice to me out of obligation…It's not like I've been giving them a choice…'_

Sweets wasn't sure anymore if he was crying, but he knew that he wanted to.

'_They won't say it….because they don't want to be cruel. But I know the truth…The truth is that their lives were just fine before I came along…And they'll be better off without me interfering…'_

Soon the voices and images faded away, but Sweets continued to try to shut them out.

"Go away, go away," he mumbled.

"I'm not going anywhere, Lance."

Sweets cracked his eyes open and saw Andrew standing there with a glass in his hand. He jerked about, startled, but was grateful that the hallucinations seemed to have stopped. Andrew sat down next to him on the bed and carefully lifted Sweets' head up toward him. He then put the glass to the psychologist's lips.

"Drink," he ordered. Sweets was reluctant to comply, afraid of what could be contained in the liquid. But he was also become severely dehydrated and needed a drink. He opened his mouth and was relieved to discover plain, room-temperature water in the glass. He took in several greedy sips before Jensen pulled the glass away.

"Thank you," Sweets murmured. Andrew didn't respond as he put the glass down on a nearby stand. After staring at the psychologist for a moment, he pulled out a gun and a key. Keeping the gun aimed at Sweets' head, Andrew unlocked the handcuffs that were around his wrists and then stepped back to the other side of the room.

"Go ahead and untie your feet," Andrew said as Sweets struggled to sit up. "Just make sure to do it nice and slow…or else."

"Why?" Sweets asked. "What are you….?"

Andrew cocked the gun, the click seeming to echo in the tiny room.

"Do it," Jensen spat. With trembling hands, Sweets carefully undid the ropes around his ankles. It was a slow process as his fingers were almost numb with cold and poor circulation. After a few minutes he was free and swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding his ribs.

"Now…strip," Andrew said. "Off with the clothes."

Sweets' eyes grew wide with terror as he began to imagine all the reasons why Andrew would make such a request. At his hesitation, Andrew sighed, disgusted.

"God, you do have a perverted way of thinking about things," he said. "The fact is, you stink….this whole room does…So I'm just looking for a way to clean it up." Andrew then nodded to a large garden hose on the floor and then looked back at Sweets, his expression grim.

"Now, do what I say, or I'll have to devise another way to get this smell out," Andrew threatened. "And trust me…you _will_ not like what I come up with if you push me to that."

Seeing no other choice, Sweets slowly removed his clothes and threw them into a little pile on the floor. Shaking with cold, fear and humiliation, he kept his eyes firmly locked on the floor, not daring to look at Andrew's face.

"You better stay in that spot while I do this," Andrew told him. "You move any closer or move anywhere else…And well I think you know what will happen."

The psychologist gave the slightest of nods and then felt a burst of water hit him in the chest. Sweets almost fell over from the impact since it was so sudden. Andrew continued to spray wave after wave of freezing water at him and all around him. He watched as his clothes drifted away from his feet in a soppy mess toward a drain in the floor.

"Turn around," Andrew shouted at him. "I want to make sure you're not lying around in filth…Trust me, it's not pleasant to be around."

Sweets mutely did as he was ordered and after a few more moments, he collapsed onto the floor. Once there he drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face against his legs.

He tried to block out what was happening to him, focusing on the physical sensations he was feeling as a way to detach himself from the thoughts and emotions that were tearing him up inside. But sitting there on the frigid, cement floor, naked and vulnerable, only drove home the terror that was threatening to dominate him and the desperation of the situation he was in.

Worst of all, it reminded him of how alone he was.

After what seemed like an eternity, the water stopped, and Jensen dropped the hose to the floor. He pulled his gun back out and picked up a sparse towel.

"Here, cover yourself with that," Jensen said as he threw it at Sweets. The psychologist unfolded the towel and wrapped it around him as best he could. While he did so, Andrew settled into a chair at the other side of the room.

"Now…that's a little better," he said, looking around the room. "I figured that we could have a little talk now while we're waiting for everything to dry out."

"A talk?" Sweets asked, finally looking up at him.

"Why not?" Andrew mused. "It's what you shrinks do, isn't it? Talk to people and tell them about all the stuff that's wrong with them? I'm sure you have a bunch of theories about me…you being such a know-it-all."

Andrew leaned forward, aiming the gun at the therapist's head.

"So why don't you tell me why I'm keeping you around?" he asked. "What's stopping me from shooting you right now and ending your worthless existence?"

"Maybe you should tell me," Sweets replied, shaking as the chill of the floor seeped into him. "You seem to have a lot of pain and turmoil that you need to work through. Why don't you share it with me?"

"I'm the one asking the questions here," Andrew hissed. "So stop telling me what I should or shouldn't do and answer the question….Or am I going to have to teach you another lesson?"

Sweets continued to shiver, but he wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid of his impending execution or of whatever "punishment" Andrew could dream up for him beforehand.

"You…you loved her, didn't you?" the psychologist mumbled.

"What the….? What are you talking about?" Jensen seethed. "How did you find out about her? And….And for your information, she was just another piece of dirt that I didn't need."

"I…No, I was talking about Lillian," Sweets said, confused. "You loved her….You thought she loved you."

"That whore wasn't capable of loving anyone but herself," Andrew said, rage burning in his eyes.

"You're right….Lillian was immature and self-centered," Sweets nodded. "But…she was also beautiful, mysterious and gentle when she wanted to be. And you thought that things would be different for you when you found out she was pregnant."

The psychologist stopped and wrapped the towel tighter against him as he tried to calm the shudders that were coursing through his body.

"You thought that maybe you could have a life with her," Sweets continued. "It's why you cleaned up your act and tried to stay out of trouble. You were trying to have some kind of normal life with her….But Lillian didn't want the things you wanted. So the arguments started. Things got worse day by day until finally she left you….She turned her back on you the same way your mother did."

Throughout this, Andrew said nothing, continuing to give Sweets an unreadable stare. When the therapist stopped and turned his gaze to the floor, Andrew spoke.

"Go on," he said, gesturing with the gun. Sweets swallowed hard and looked back up.

"I think you kept me around after she left because you wanted to be a father…a real father," he added. "You didn't want things to turn out the way they did with your own father…But you were also only twenty-three years old along with being a single parent with little prospects for income. All the stresses of life along with your difficult past and your anger at Lillian ate away at you on the inside…and your only outlet was to hit me."

Sweets leaned against the bed and began to hold his ribs which had begun to ache again. He could see violet and almost black bruises blossoming all over his limbs.

"The thing is, every time you beat me, you were reminded of your father and of how much you hated that you were turning into him," Sweets said. "That pain hurt you even more…Eventually it just got out of control."

Andrew nodded and got up from his chair. He reached over to a plastic bag that was sitting near the door and pulled out a thin white tee shirt and a pair of boxers.

"Put those on," Andrew snarled, tossing them to Sweets. The psychologist quickly slipped the clothes on, but found little in the way of warmth from them.

"Get back on the bed and cuff yourself in," Jensen ordered him.

"Please stop this, Andrew," Sweets begged as he sat down onto the bed. "You don't have to go through with this. You can still prove yourself as a father. Just let me go…and I'll get you some help."

"Help?" Andrew said, bemused. "Help for me?"

"Yes," Sweets assured him. "I want to help you heal…from your vicious childhood…from Lillian…from all of the wounds that are making you suffer. Please…let me help you."

Andrew's eyes glistened as Sweets' words sank in.

'_No one's ever wanted to help me…not once…'_

But then Jensen's posture became rigid again.

'_Brat…how dare he say that I need help? I don't need him….I don't need anyone…'_

"Lie back down and cuff yourself in," Andrew screamed at him, the gun shaking in his hand. He then fired, the bullet striking the floor near Sweets' feet. The psychologist immediately laid down and closed one of the handcuffs around his wrist. Andrew then marched over and yanked Sweets' arm over and snapped that wrist into the other handcuff. Once he was secured, Jensen paced about the room, muttering to himself, Sweets' words still echoing in his head.

'_Let me help…'_

Soon, Andrew spotted an old pipe lying in a corner of the room. He went over to pick it up and turned back toward the bed.

'_There's no such thing as love and forgiveness….It's all a sham….'_

Andrew walked purposely toward the psychologist, his grip tightening on the pipe as he approached.

"No…wait," Sweets whimpered.

But Andrew didn't seem to hear him. Instead he began hitting Sweets' leg with the pipe over and over again. The psychologist screamed with each blow, but that didn't seem to affect Jensen one way or the other. After a few strikes, there was a sick snapping sound as Andrew broke the tibia in Sweets' right shin. Jensen abruptly dropped the pipe and leaned over the bed. He grabbed Sweets' hair again so that he'd be forced to look at him.

"You want to know why I kept you around as a kid?" Andrew ranted over Sweets cries of pain. "I did it because the welfare people gave me money for you being in my house….Nothing more."

Jensen crouched down alongside the bed, so that he was inches away from Sweets' ear.

"You seem to think that the world revolves around love and this stupid notion of 'helping people'," he mocked. "Is that what you think now? Do you still feel like 'helping people'? Or are you ready to see the world as it really is?"

Andrew put his hands on either side of the psychologist's head and moved his face close to his own.

"The truth is we are all alone, Lance," he intoned. "You, me…this whole stinking world. And the sooner you stop holding onto this idiotic fantasy of 'helping people' and realize that nobody cares about you, the better off you'll be."

Jensen let go of Sweets and stood back up. He walked out of the room and turned off the light without saying another word.

Sweets continued to moan and cry as he tried to get a hold of himself, but the pain was consuming him. His eyes rolled back as he began to pass out.

'_I can't….I can't hold on anymore…This is it…'_

But just as he teetered on the edge of semi-consciousness, Sweets could have sworn that he felt a warm hand tousle his hair. The touch was feather-light and almost unworldly, but the psychologist leaned toward it, not caring if it was real or just another illusion of delirium. Soon a voice penetrated into the recesses of his mind, enveloping his thoughts.

'_You can hold on…You can…Rest now and know that you are not alone…I will stay with you until the others come to take care of you…Just hold on for a little while longer, sport.'_

Sweets allowed the gentle voice to guide him to sleep which gave him some relief from the nightmare he was currently residing in.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: Next chapter. Keeping in the spirit of my Fanfiction NaNoWriMo, expect this chapter to be a long one. :) I'll make that word count yet...

Again, expect this chapter and the next couple to be very dark in tone with a high T rating...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated. :D

**Lives in the now: **David and Carolyn's roles in Sweets' life will certain be important in this fic...especially with Sweets facing his darkest point yet...As for Andrew...I think you'll find that there's not much left to redeem there...

**TimeWitch93: **Sweets did indeed find a crack in Andrew's armor since he knows him even better than Andrew knows him...As to Andrew's game, it's hard to say if even he knows what he wants...Peter will prove useful as time goes on...

**iEaTNekkozzz: **There's definitely a part of Andrew that can't help but be drawn to his own son. The problem is that emotion is not exactly familial affection...I checked out those lyrics that you mentioned. I could see if for the last chapter, but I don't know if that will hold up in this one...

**D:** As for what I believe in relation to parents and how their love endures, I'll mention that the title of this fic has more than one meaning. That says it all, I think...And I agree that Booth will be very important in helping Sweets find a way to deal with what is happening to him...and perhaps Booth could find some closure as well...

**Super Ario: **While Sweets may want to reach out to him, Andrew simply does not want to be reached...And yeah, I can see Booth and Peter giving Sweets some grief later on. It's a big brother thing. ;)

**Fearlee: **David was serious when he promised Lance that he would never leave him...I had a feeling that it would extend pretty far...despite what Brennan would have us believe...Sweets is not out of the woods yet...

**Sweetfavoritethings: **Thank you. But I should warn you that it's going to get even more intense...Thus why I have a fluffier project in the works right now.

**Peanutmeg: **I hope that this was a fast enough update. :D You'll be getting a lot of these this month...

**Abandon-Morality: **Well sometimes you can see them when you are hovering between life and death, I think...But I can say that I'm not a big fan of deathfics. So...

**Blazing Rubellite: **I agree that recovery from something like this would be difficult and would require a lot of support and care...Sadly, Sweets' talent for getting into the minds of others is certainly a double-edged sword here...

**Cobalt6233: **I know, I know. I can be a cruel authoress in regards to Sweets at times...But the ensuing fluff should help erase some of that...

**Buttercups3: **I think Sweets finds comfort in knowing that he will be reunited with his parents at some point, even if he's not looking to join them right away...I actually think that Sweets could still get to Andrew despite everything that is happening to him...He's just that attuned to the mind...Sadly, things will continue to be dark for a little while longer...And I will go into Peter's background some more at some point...the fic is in the works...

**Icechips99: **Darn typos. I meant to say that I always make sure to finish my work because I don't want to leave my readers hanging. So don't worry this will be finished, even if it takes a little while...

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 17

The sun had completely risen by the time Booth, Peter and Wyatt arrived at their destination, a house that was covered in peeling paint and which had a wire fence surrounding it. The three of them got out of the car, but Booth held up a hand at Peter.

"Remember what I said," the agent told him. "Gordon Gordon and I are handling this. You're just an observer. In fact, you should wait out here while we go inside. Got it?"

Peter let out a frustrated huff, but nodded his assent. He leaned against the SUV and watched as Booth and Wyatt walked along the cracked sidewalk up to the porch.

Booth knocked the door a couple times, and after a few moments, a frazzled looking woman in a low cut tee shirt and jeans opened the door.

"FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth," he said holding up his badge. "Are you Ms. Jean Bergan?" The woman leaned against the door frame and sighed.

"This is about Andrew, isn't it?" she drawled. Booth and Wyatt weren't able to completely hide their surprise, but the agent swiftly regained his stern demeanor.

"Yes it is, Ms. Bergan," Booth replied. "Have you seen Mr. Jensen recently?"

"Nope, not for about three months now," she said, jutting out her chin.

"Can we come in and ask you a few questions about him?" Booth asked. Bergan rolled her eyes.

"I suppose I don't really have much of a choice," she said, holding the door open for him. "If I say no, you'll probably just come back with a warrant or something….So what did he do now?"

* * *

Andrew paced about in his front room. The cabin he was in was rather spacious, but since it was so deep in the woods, he couldn't help but feel claustrophobic. Try as he might, he could not get Sweets' gentle words out of his head.

'_Let me help…'_

At one point, Andrew took some more meth, even though he tried to limit his doses so that he wouldn't become a junkie. He was desperate to shut out the emotions that Sweets was bringing up from some long forgotten part of his mind. But nothing seemed to help.

'_Why? Why does he want to help? Nobody's ever helped me…Why should that brat want to? A brat who won't even refer to me as his father even thought that's what I am.'_

Jensen thought back to his own childhood and the father that he had had to grow up with. Andrew was certain that if he had refused to call his own father "dad" he would have been punished in some of the most brutal ways imaginable. The fact that Sweets treated him more like a patient than acknowledging him as his father got under Andrew's skin in a way few things ever could.

'_Damn kid…Why does he care so much? He shouldn't….Hasn't he learned by now how the world really is? What makes him so special? Why doesn't he just give up?'_

Andrew stomped off into a side room and picked up a bucket and a couple of tools in preparation to go back to the basement.

He was determined to make the psychologist crack…one way or another.

* * *

"I told you, I don't know where Andrew is," Bergan said as she slouched down in her chair. "What else can I possibly tell you?" Booth and Wyatt sat down on a couch across from her.

"How long were you in a relationship with Mr. Jensen?" the agent asked.

"I don't know. A year or two. On and off," she answered. "At first things were kind of fun…But then he'd get so intense, you know. He'd get so angry over the least little thing…But for a while I didn't let it bother me. I mean, he never took it out on me, and he was a good provider. Especially after he found some work with a friend of mine."

"A Leonard Browder by any chance?" Wyatt ventured.

""Hey…nice accent," Bergan smiled at him. "And yeah, it was Lennie. I don't really know much about his business, but it's good money. Mail order I think."

"Mail order?" Booth said, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess," she said. "I didn't ask too many questions…I didn't care to, you know."

"If things were going so great for you and Jensen, why are you no longer with him?" the agent inquired. Bergan looked at her lap for a couple of moments and then leaned forward.

"No matter what I felt about Andrew…no one is means as much to me as my Donnie," she said.

"Donnie…Your son, perhaps?" Wyatt asked.

"Yeah, my kid," she said, looking up at last. "I've been fighting to get custody of him from my ex for a while now, and just this last year I finally was able to get it….I told Andrew that if he wanted to be serious with me, he would have to be a father to my Donnie."

"And did Jensen agree to that?" Booth inquired.

"He was kind of weird about it at first, but then he seemed to have no problem with it," she said. "But the way he acted initially…it got me thinking. So I decided to do a little digging into his past since he never wanted to talk about it. I borrowed some money from friends of mine and hired one of those private investigators."

"And was it something that this P.I., to use the vernacular, found that made you decide to reconsider Andrew as a possible marriage prospect?" Wyatt said.

"That guy found Andrew's arrest record," Bergan snapped. "I knew he had been had been arrested before…but nothing like this….Turns out he has a kid that he failed to mention. And when I read about what he did to his own kid…There was no way that I was going to ever let him near my son."

"I'll assume that Jensen didn't take the news well," Booth added.

"Quite frankly, I didn't care how he took it. I told him to get out and never come back," she responded. "He was kind of scary about it at first…Andrew has a knack for that. But I was able to enlist the help of a few friends of mine, and he eventually got the message." Bergan shuddered a bit.

"I didn't want my son to end up like Andrew's kid," she said. "I mean, I'm sure that nothing good came out of him after what Andrew put him through. It's a shame really."

"Is there anything else that you can think of that might help us find him?" Booth asked, ignoring her comments.

"Believe me, I'd tell you if I knew something, but I don't," she replied. "I've moved on from him."

Suddenly a loud noise followed by shouting and sounds of a struggle interrupted their conversation. Booth leapt up and pulled out his gun. He quickly and smoothly snaked his way to a side door. The agent looked out a window to see Peter fighting with a man who was carrying a shotgun. Booth ran out the door, his gun pointed at them.

"FBI, drop the weapon!" Booth yelled.

The man didn't seem to hear him and instead made a desperate grab to yank his gun away from Peter. But the soldier was faster, and he proceeded to not only disarm the man, but throw him to the ground with a couple of well-placed martial arts moves. After planting his foot on the man's chest and pinning him to the ground, Peter pointed the gun at him.

"Don't move," Peter snarled at him.

"Hey, I've got this," Booth barked at Peter. "Stand down."

"Sorry," the soldier said, handing the shotgun to Booth while still keeping his foot on the man's chest. Booth knelt down to handcuff him and only then did Peter move away.

"I thought I told you to stay with the car," Booth said as he dragged the man to his feet.

"I did," Peter answered. "But then I happened to notice this guy sneaking over to this side door, and I thought that it would be best if I made sure that he didn't cause any trouble."

"Yeah, well…don't do that again," Booth grumbled. Silently, the agent admitted that he had been impressed with Peter's skill in taking the man down.

'_There's no way he learned that in basic training…those are advanced hand-to-hand combat techniques,' _Booth thought to himself. '_Just what kinds of duties does this staff sergeant have?'_

Booth decided that it would be best to ponder such questions later and focused on the matter at hand…which was the person now in his custody.

"All right…what are you doing here?" Booth demanded, tightening his grip on the man's shoulder.

"What do you care?" the man spat.

"Look…friend," Booth said through gritted teeth. "You should know that you are interfering with an FBI investigation…So if I were you, I'd start cooperating."

"A fed? Aw man, I didn't know you were a fed," the man said.

"Maybe that's why I yelled 'FBI' and 'don't move' at you," Booth said his tone thick with sarcasm.

"What are you? Some kind of fed too?" the man said, looking over at Peter. "Damn…that really hurt, you know?"

"Hey, I'm the one asking the questions here," Booth said. "Now how about you start answering some of them…Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Ok, ok…my name is Doug Billings, the man answered. "And I'm here to see Jean…she's my girl."

"Go on," the agent insisted.

"Well…I just got off work," Billings continued. "I work the night shift at Cashman's warehouse….Anyway; I see your car parked up front and I'm thinking that maybe some goons from my girl's ex have shown up to harass her…It's not something I'd put past him."

"So you decide to play white knight and save her with a shotgun?" Booth said.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Billings retorted. "Some of these guys don't mess around, if you get my drift….Andrew…my girl's ex…He certainly doesn't. I'm sure that he killed my cousin, but no one can prove it 'cause the cops can't find him...Not that they're really trying since he was arrested before for making meth."

"Your cousin, would his name happen to be Dan Barlow?" Booth asked. Billings' face turned white.

"How did you know?" he gasped. "Did you find him?"

"We're looking at Andrew Jensen for a series of homicides as well as other things like Barlow's disappearance," the agent reported. "So you'd best cooperate with us."

""Look man, I don't know nothing about Andrew nor do I want to know," Billings said. "In fact, I hope you catch him for what did to Danny."

"He doesn't know anything."

The three of them looked over to see Bergan rushing outside with Wyatt walking close behind. She put her arms around him and glared at Booth.

"He doesn't know anything, I swear," she repeated. "He's just trying to protect me from Andrew. I swear he's not involved in anything…I…I can give you something on Andrew…Really."

"What can you give us?" Booth asked.

"That detective dug up all kinds of things on Andrew," she said. "Background stuff and reports and pictures of where he's been recently. He gave me a copy of his reports, and I still have them…I'll give them to you...Just please let Doug go."

Booth considered it for a moment and then reached into his pocket for his keys. He took the cuff off Billings and shoved him toward Bergan lightly.

"All right, I won't run him in…but don't even think about leaving town…either of you," he warned. Bergan marched back in with an indignant huff while Billings stared at the grass.

"Don't worry Mr. FBI," he mumbled. "It's not like either of us have any place to go."

* * *

"Tell me who your father is, Lance?" Andrew hissed at the figure on the bed. "Say it."

"David…David Sweets," Sweets choked out, flinching because he knew what was coming.

Andrew had taken to holding a thin, flat piece of metal over the open flame of a cigarette lighter, and whenever the psychologist gave an unsatisfactory answer to one of his questions, Jensen would press the hot metal onto Sweets' currently exposed torso. Already there were several angry, red welts that were beginning to blister on Sweets' skin. If Sweets started to pass out from the agony, Andrew would dump some cold water on him, jolting him awake. In response to Sweets' latest answer, Andrew immediately mashed the metal against the psychologist's side once more. Sweets screamed and writhed as the white hot heat burned its way onto his flesh and the pain raced through his body and mind.

Frustrated at the lack of progress he had made with him, Andrew finally threw the metal to the ground and leaned over the bed.

"Why? Why do you persist on fighting me? Why do you keep clinging to all these stupid ideas?" Andrew yelled at him, his face inches from Sweets'. "That old man is dead…And he never really was your father in the first place…You're nothing, Lance…You're worthless…No one cares about you…And no one ever will."

Sweets tried to curl his body away from Andrew, but he soon found that he didn't have the strength anymore to move around much. Even as Andrew's words penetrated every corner of his mind, Sweets knew that he didn't want to be Andrew's victim any longer. He would continue to fight him until the end…even though he was certain that his end would be coming soon.

"I'm sorry," the psychologist said, barely above a whisper. "Your father…I'm sorry for…what he did…."

Sweets' words only added to the agitation, rage and confusion that Andrew felt.

'_Why doesn't he give up?'_ Andrew thought. '_Why does he keep hanging on?'_

'_I would have given up by now.'_

That thought seemed to strike Andrew from left field, but the more he mulled over it, the more enraged he felt.

'_That brat's not better than me…I'm his father and he's __**not **__better than me….He's just a scrawny punk who's spent all his time studying books…He knows nothing about real life….or real pain….'_

Andrew watched as Sweets lost consciousness again and then left the room. He suddenly stopped when he passed by a room that he had kept closed for a while now. Even as the stench of death wafted its way over to where he was standing, Andrew could not suppress a grin.

'_I know…I know what is keeping that brat going,' _he thought. '_And I know just the way to end it…'

* * *

_

After Bergan gave Booth the detective's notes, Booth headed back to the Hoover building to check in. Then he, Wyatt and Peter sat in the conference room and looked through everything they had been given. A lot of it was things that Booth already knew thanks to the Bureau's own investigations, but one item in particular caught his eye.

"Look at this," Booth said, pulling out some photos and a page from the file. "It says that Jensen was fond of visiting this one pawnshop to sell a variety of things. All the victims that Bones has at the lab were missing a lot of personal effects. My guess is that he might have sold some of it to this pawnshop."

"So you think that Andrew might have sold some of Lance's things?" Peter said, his eyes lighting up with renewed anger.

"It's possible," Booth replied. "There was also some things missing from Agent Burnet and there's also the missing victim, Barlow. It's a lead worth checking out."

* * *

It was early afternoon by the time the three of them made it over to the pawnshop in question. When they arrived, once again, all three of them got out of the car. Booth gave Peter a warning nod which Peter acknowledged with a nod of his own. But this time, Booth said nothing as Peter followed him and Wyatt into the building.

"And how can I help you fine gentlemen today?" the man behind the counter said. Booth almost snorted at how fake both the smile and the friendly tone were. He then decided to skip pleasantries and pulled out his badge.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth," he said, his voice curt. "I need to see any records you have for any transactions for one Andrew Jensen."

"Look pal, I just buy and sell the stuff," the man said shrugging his shoulders. "I don't keep track of every single person who…."

Booth yanked out a photo of Jensen and slapped it onto the counter.

"Listen carefully…pal," Booth growled. "This guy here…he's responsible for at least four murders…including an agent of the FBI. We have information that shows that Jensen frequents this place when he has something to sell and it's more than likely that he sold personal items from his victims to you. So you could be holding evidence pertinent to my case….Now, are you going to get me the information I want or am I going to have to arrest you for obstruction…or better yet, as an accessory?"

"Whoa…hold on," the clerk said. "Now that you showed me his picture, I remember the guy…Andy. He comes in every once in a while to get rid of some stuff from his family's estate."

"His family's estate? Is that what he told you?" Wyatt asked.

"Yeah," the man said. "He said that he had a couple of distant relatives that died a while ago and he's still sorting through their stuff. Andy mentioned that he needed to get rid of all the stuff he didn't need any more…A couple things have sold already, but I can give you copies of the claim slips and the stuff that's still here."

"Do that," Booth said, snatching up the photo from the counter. After a minute or two the clerk produced a stack of slips and a bundle of objects all of which he laid out onto the counter in front of the agent. Booth began to sort through the slips.

"Looks like he sold something from almost all of his victims," he muttered. "The dates match up to what Bones gave for the times of death for the victims."

"Hey, I didn't know that Andy killed the people for their stuff," the man insisted. "I wouldn't have accepted it if I had known."

"This…this is Lance's watch," Peter said, his eyes intense. He grabbed it off the counter and gingerly held it in his hands.

"Are you sure?" Booth asked. The soldier nodded his head vigorously.

"Uncle David gave this to him before Lance went to England to write his book," Peter said. "It used to be his…and he wanted his son to have it. Here's the inscription."

Booth looked at the back of the face of the watch and read what was engraved there.

_To Lance, For times remembered. Love Dad._

Both Peter and Booth's expressions grew angry.

"When did Jensen sell this to you?" the agent said, indicating the watch in his hands.

"A day ago, I think. Why?"

"Did he say anything about where he was going or what he was doing?" Booth asked. "Anything that could help us find him?"

"No, I didn't see anything, I swear," the man whined. "He just sold me the watch and left. It's not like I had much of a conversation with the guy."

"Just the watch and left, huh? And there's nothing else?" Booth questioned. "Nothing you want to tell me now?"

"Please…I….Wait, now that you mention it, there was something else," the man said. "Yeah…Andy bought a couple things. Normally he doesn't buy, he just sells, so it was kind of odd."

"What did he purchase?" Wyatt asked.

"A couple tools…and a belt buckle of all things," the clerk answered. "I don't think he was intending to buy the buckle originally, but when he saw that I had it, he kept laughing and said that it would make a great gag gift….Whatever."

"And what did this belt buckle look like, dare I ask?" the chef inquired.

"Well it was red and…it was just like that," the man said, pointing at Booth's trademark "Cocky" belt buckle. "Yeah, exactly like that. Weird coincidence, huh?"

Wyatt fell silent and stepped back. Booth glanced over at him, wondering what the chef was thinking but quickly turned back to the clerk.

"Security cameras, by any chance?" the agent said waving a hand around the room.

"What does this look like? The Bank of England?" the man said, testy. "I've got nothing like that here."

"We're going to need to take all of this as evidence," Booth said as he gathered up everything on the counter.

"Go ahead, take it all," the clerk said. "I don't want nothing to do with a murderer."

* * *

As the three of them left in the car, Booth ruminated over what had just happened.

'_Burnet's wallet wasn't with any of the others. Why is he holding onto it? And what's with him getting my belt buckle? He must have known about it from that stuff that Burnet gave him…'_

"We're heading back to the office to drop the slips off and to check on what Perotta's doing," Booth announced.

"And if she doesn't have anything for us?" Peter asked.

"Then it's back to the Jeffersonian to drop the rest of this stuff off," Booth said. "Hopefully Bones and her squints can give us something to work with."

As they continued along, Wyatt continued to think about what he had just learned. He also continued to go over the profile Sweets had written about Andrew in his mind. An unpleasant picture was beginning to form.

Wyatt knew that they needed to find Sweets soon…if they wanted a chance to hold onto any part of the young psychologist's soul.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: Another day another chapter. :D I hope I can keep up this pace of updates for this fic...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. :) Unfortunately, (or fortunately in your case) we still have quite a while to go...But this fic will have a turn in its focus soon...

**Ladykale1985: **At the very least, I imagine that it would be very tempting for them to do...

**Fearlee: **I have a feeling you're on the right track...And yes, I love Booth's "Cocky" belt buckle too...

**Blazing Rubellite: **I figured that Andrew would want to have a place where he wouldn't be interrupted from his "tasks"...And you're correct in thinking that he is acting out some of his own childhood traumas...

**Peanutmeg: **This time of year can be so busy, can't it? Thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too. :D

**Super Ario: **:) I laughed at your "preview" of this chapter. Some of it is actually pretty accurate...You may have a future yet as a TV narrator. ;)

**TimeWitch93: **I think **Mendenbar **put it best when she mentioned how Andrew wants to claim "ownership" of Sweets, and the surest way to do it is to have Sweets acknowledge him as his father...the theory being that children are the "property" of their parents...It's a way to justify his actions.

**Buttercups3: **Thanks for the support. :D It is creepy to think about Andrew trying to find a new family...but it strikes me as something he would do...Eerily enough, it mirrors Sweets' attempts to find a new "family" to replace the one he lost...in a perverse sort of way. As for the rest of it...;)

**D: **As Wyatt would say, you always manage to see to the heart of things. :) I've often thought that Sweets has his own brand of courage and strength, even if it's not overt...And it's what is on display in this story. And you're right in thinking that Wyatt has found out some facts which will prove ominous...

**Abandon-Morality: **I'd like to think it's Andrew. ;P But don't worry, this fic will be going in a new direction soon...

**Sheila1990: **Thanks. Will do. :) Here's the next chapter.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 18

On the surface, work seemed to be continuing as it always did at the Jeffersonian with its usual quiet, methodical pace. But the mood of the lab was one of worry. Worry and frustration.

After working for over two days, both Brennan and Hodgins decided to take time to rest while staying at the lab. While they slept, the interns continued their work, and once they woke up, the interns began shifts of rest and work, so they could be fresh for whatever tasks they were needed for.

It was late afternoon when Angela finally arrived. She had left the hospital and had only stopped at her apartment to shower and change before heading to the lab. Hodgins was concerned about her returning to work so soon, but she waved him off.

"I'm fine, Jack," she assured him. "My arm still hurts a little, but it's nothing that an aspirin can't fix."

"All right, Ange…but just take it easy, ok?" the entomologist said.

"I will…but I'm not leaving here either. Not until we find Sweets," Angela replied. "I keep thinking about how that psycho has him…."

"I know," Hodgins nodded gravely. "I still can't believe that Sweets could be related to someone like that…even if he didn't grow up with him."

"Personally, I hope that Booth gets to nail this creep to the wall," the artist said. "Just being arrested is a lot more than what this guy deserves."

Hodgins nodded with her again, and the two of them spent one more quiet moment together, holding hands and silently communicating with each other, before Hodgins finally cleared his throat.

"I should go check to if there's anything in the latest results from the mass spec," he said.

"Yeah, and I'm going to find Brennan and see if she needs any kind of computer magic from me," Angela said.

They squeezed each others hands and kissed before separating. They were ready to bury themselves in their work. Both of them anxious to do whatever it took to find Sweets before it was too late.

* * *

An hour later, Booth, Wyatt, and Peter showed up at the Medico-Legal lab. Wyatt excused himself shortly after they arrived so that he could "ponder some notions" that were at the forefront of his mind. As soon as he walked away, Cam walked out of her office to meet Booth and Peter.

"Have you got anything new for us, Cam?" Booth asked.

"Not really as far as Jensen's possible location," the pathologist said. "But Hodgins thinks he could be getting close to something from the shoe print samples."

"I've got some more stuff for you guys to analyze," the agent said, holding up a plastic bag which contained the things he had gathered at the pawn shop.

"I'll give this to Hodgins," Cam said taking it from him. "Um…who is this?"

"Staff Sergeant Peter Sweets," Peter said, extending his hand. "I take it that you're Doctor Saroyan."

"Yes," she said, shaking his hand. "I think Sweets mentioned you. You're his cousin right?"

"Yes," Peter nodded.

"You're Sweets' cousin?" Angela said as she walked toward them.

"Correct…and you must be Angela Montenegro," Peter replied. "Lance has told me a lot about you."

"All of it good, I hope," she smiled.

"Hey, I'm going to go see what Bones is doing," Booth said, walking off. "Oh, and Peter, you can wait here just don't touch anything."

"Since Brennan doesn't need me, I'm going to go over all those surveillance tapes that Booth sent over from the hotel," Angela said. "Maybe I can get a plate number or something from the footage."

After Angela left them, Cam turned to Peter.

"Feel free to walk around the lab," she told him. "But I will have to ask that you stay away from places like the forensic platform and rooms where evidence is being processed."

"I understand. Thank you, Doctor Saroyan," Peter said. "And…thank you…all of you…for working so hard to find Lance."

"Believe me Sgt. Sweets, we want him back as much as you do," Cam said as she walked away.

* * *

Sometime later, Peter wandered into Angela's office and found her sitting in front of a series of large computer screens. She was tapping away on her keypad and occasionally would study the results on the screen.

"Excuse me, Ms. Montenegro?" he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just got restless pacing around out there."

"Oh no, come in," she smiled at him. "And it's Angela by the way."

"Thanks," Peter said. "You have an incredible place here."

"Well, don't let that intimidate you," she said. "It's the people here who are the incredible ones."

"I'm sure that's true," he nodded. "So how is it going….if I may ask?"

"Well this footage is really lousy, but I'm going to try to run it through this program to see if I can improve the resolution," Angela replied. She clicked a couple more controls and soon the image started to be filtered through her computer.

"This will be working for a few minutes," she said. "So I'm free for the moment." She studied him for a second and then walked over to her desk where a bag was sitting. Peter followed her and glanced inside to see the smiling faces of his late aunt and uncle looking back at him from a framed photograph.

"Hey, these are pictures of my Aunt Carolyn and Uncle David," he said, pulling one out.

"Yeah well that psycho trashed Sweets' apartment and tore up a bunch of the pictures he had sitting out," she explained.

"And so you found a way to make new prints?" Peter asked.

"I was hoping that it would make him feel a little better, you know?" Angela said. "Knowing that Jensen wasn't able to take this away from him?"

"I'm glad that Lance has such good friends here," Peter smiled. "You're all great people…just like he said."

"Thank you," Angela replied. She then looked at the photo that Peter was staring at.

"You know, you look a lot like Sweets' dad," she marveled. "It's uncanny."

"I've gotten that a lot over the years," Peter nodded. "I don't mind though. Next to my Dad, Uncle David was one of the best men I've ever known, so I'm glad that I remind people of him." The soldier began shuffling through the photographs and found one of Sweets as a child with David and Carolyn.

"My aunt and uncle were amazing people," Peter said. "And they loved Lance as if he was their own son."

"Hey, there's you and Sweets," Angela grinned as she picked up another photo. It was a picture of Peter and Lance each with an arm around each others shoulder, grins on their faces.

"I remember when this was taken," he said, taking the photo from her. "It was only a week or so after I met Lance. I was fourteen at the time, and he was eleven. My family moved back to the United States after living in Germany for most of my childhood. That year we ended up spending Christmas and New Year's with my aunt and uncle."

"So it looks like you two really hit it off," Angela said.

"No…actually, we didn't get along at all at first," Peter said ruefully. "We barely spoke to each other the first day we met, and by the second day, Lance was punching me in the stomach."

"Wow," Angela breathed, trying to absorb this new side of Sweets. "What happened there?"

"I…I thought he was a weird, geeky kid who my aunt and uncle were spoiling," he said somberly. "I didn't understand why they had adopted him at first….Plus I was going through a lot myself at the time…My father had died a few years before that, and I had just left all my friends in Germany. So I'm sure that I was a jerk to him."

Peter sighed and leaned against the desk for a moment before continuing.

"But then I realized that it wasn't like that at all," he said. "I mean, yeah, he was kind of geeky. After all he was in the same grade in school as me even though I'm three years older than him."

Angela and Peter laughed for a moment, but soon Peter grew solemn again.

"But I found out that there's more to him than that," Peter said. "I discovered that he's also a generous, caring person…even as a kid…even after everything he had been through. I was mean to him, but he still forgave me and tried to make me feel better. He kind of became my empathetic little brother."

Peter stood back out and sat the photo back down with the others.

"Anyway, ever since then we've been close," he continued. "I don't get to see him very often, but I know that I can rely on him, and he knows the same is true for me."

Noticing the sad look in his eyes, Angela placed a hand on Peter's arm.

"We're going to get him back," she said gently. "Me, Hodgins, Cam, Booth, Brennan….We're all going to do whatever it takes to save him."

"I know," Peter mumbled. "Lance said that all of you are the best at what you do. I…I think he's proud that he is able to work with all of you and to know you as friends."

"Well, we're also lucky to have him working with us," the artist responded. "He's probably the only shrink who could ever fit in here…Even if he is a little geeky and nosy."

They shared a smile, and then Angela glanced over to the monitors. The computer had finished its work and there was now a clear picture of the plate from Andrew's car.

"I've got a plate number," she beamed. "I need to get this to Booth…Hopefully it will give him a lead that will help him crack this case."

"Actually Ange," Hodgins said as he walked in. "I've got the thing that's going to help us solve…Who's this?"

"Oh Hodgins, this is Peter….Sweets' cousin," she answered.

"Pleased to meet you Doctor Hodgins," Peter said, shaking his hand.

"Likewise," Hodgins nodded.

"What were you saying about having something that could crack this case?" Angela answered.

"Oh yeah, I'm on my way to show it to Cam now," the entomologist said. "If I'm right, there's a good chance that I know where Jensen and Sweets are."

* * *

At that moment, Sweets was lying on his back, wishing that he could think straight again. Andrew had given him yet another dose of whatever drug he had been injecting him with, and the psychologist was now trying to shake off its effects.

The only benefit that Sweets had from all these injections was the temporary dulling of the physical pain that he was feeling. But even that didn't last long enough to compensate for all the vivid and disturbing hallucinations that he kept having. A part of him that could still reason had begun to worry if he might become addicted to this drug.

As he tried to sort through his disorganized thoughts, he slowly became aware of the fact that he was becoming nauseous again. Sweets was sure that was partially because of the drug, but as he became more aware, he realized that part of what was making him sick was a strong odor that had suddenly filled the room.

'_What is that? It smells like burned pork…or….'_

Sweets' eyes happened to glance to the side, and he began to scream at what he saw there.

Sitting in a chair beside him was a corpse….or what was left of one. Most of the flesh had been burned away and what was left was charred black. The position of the skeleton almost looked casual…as if it were sitting at the dinner table or in a front room. A grotesque grin seemed to be plastered on its face.

"Surprise Lance," Andrew smiled as he walked into the room. He moved to stand behind the skeleton and continued to grin at Sweets.

"I thought that you might be lonely down here, so I brought you one of your friends to keep you company," Jensen chuckled.

Sweets blanched at his words; he knew Andrew well enough to know that he was probably being literal in his use of the word "friend".

"You know, I thought when I shot that one woman in the arm at that museum that that would be enough to convince those 'friends' of yours to stay out of my way," Andrew said. "But apparently they needed another lesson…As you often do."

Jensen reached into his pocket and pulled something out, hiding it in his hand.

"If you think that your so-called friends are going to save you, you're wrong," Andrew said. "Dead wrong….Especially now."

He then dropped what was in his hand onto the bed, and Sweets shook when he saw what it was.

It was a belt buckle that had been scorched by fire…one that was exactly like Booth's "Cocky" belt buckle.

"No," Sweets whispered, numb with shock. "No…it…it can't be…."

"Oh but it is," Andrew smiled. "I ran into him at that hotel after I had knocked you out…He actually thought that he could take me out alone…Boy was he surprised. Anyway, I figured that it'd be fun if the two of you were reunited at some point, so I took him along with us…. Sorry about making him into a barbecue…Little accident there."

"It's not Booth," Sweets quavered, shaking his head. "You're lying."

"Lying? Am I really, Lance?" Andrew laughed.

He then pulled a wallet out of his pocket and opened up one of the folds.

"Still think I'm lying?" he sneered as he flashed the FBI badge at Sweets. Andrew then dug around the wallet and pulled out a photo. Sweets gasped when he saw that it was Parker.

"Look at that…The fed had a kid," Andrew taunted. "He won't be seeing his father anymore….You should appreciate the fact that you can still see your father."

Sweets' eyes filled with tears as Andrew's words sunk in, but he remained silent. Jensen put the picture back into the wallet and stared at the badge.

"Fidelity, bravery, integrity…isn't that what their motto's supposed to be?" Andrew mused. "He might have been all that….Not that you'd know anything about any of it."

He sat down on the bed and leaned close to Sweets.

"You see Lance, you're like a cancer…a poison," Andrew said. "You infect people. You ruin their lives…Like you did mine. And the fact is that the world would have been a better place if you had never been born…At the very least, this fed would still be alive."

Andrew then stood and shoved the wallet back in his pocket.

"Why don't I leave you alone for a while so you can think about that?" he said as he left the room. "Think about how it was your fault that this fed got himself killed."

Andrew then walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Sweets continued to tremble, trying to avert his eyes from the burned, mangled corpse beside him. But when he did that, he found himself staring at the belt buckle that Jensen had left on the bed. The sight of it was enough for the tears in Sweets' eyes to start streaming out.

He thought back to all the memories he had of Booth: all the times they spent working together, the numerous meals they shared together, the heart-to-heart discussions they had in and out of therapy sessions, the many times the agent had comforted him when he had problems with April and then with Daisy.

All the times he had supported him and tried to help him feel like he belonged.

'_Sweets, he's brilliant…he can profile anyone…'_

'_He's like a human lie detector test…he can get into anyone's head with his Jedi mind tricks.'_

'_No matter what the problem is, Sweets can help you fix it. Pronto.'_

Sweets' tears grew more anguished as he thought about all the things that Booth used to say about him….and they only grew more intense as he thought of all the things the agent had said to him.

'_Don't worry, Sweets…April just wasn't right for you. You'll find someone else, I'm sure of it.'_

'_Hey, pay no attention to Bones. She actually likes you, even if she gives you a hard time.'_

'_It's all right, Sweets…If you need to talk, I'll listen.'_

'_You can rely on me.'_

By now, the psychologist was sobbing, but he made no attempt to hold back in his mourning, his tears had no end, his sorrow no limits.

'_I'm sorry, Booth…I'm so sorry,' _he grieved inwardly. '_It should be me there dead and not you…It's my fault for dragging you into this.'_

He no longer cared if he was rescued; he just wanted the pain in his body, heart and mind to finally end…preferably in death….For even if he did survive, Sweets was sure that no one would forgive him for causing Booth's death.

Mainly because he knew that he would never forgive himself.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: I know, another chapter already. :) But I've been feeling pretty inspired by this fic of late, and I'm wanting to continue to work toward my fanfic goal for this month. Oh and as always, I'm going to apologize for the cliffhanger up front...

**Warning**: this chapter is very dark and should be considered with a high T rating.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thanks again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lives in the now: **Sadly this seems to be something that Sweets is particularly vulnerable to: feelings of guilt...even if they aren't warranted. But at least you didn't have to wait long to find out what happens next...;)

**Ladykale1985: **But sadly it's something that I could easily see Andrew doing...

**Super Ario: **No, I didn't figure you would be...And I doubt this chapter is going to make you feel much differently.

**Fearlee: **Yeah, I figured that that might be what you were thinking...Here's the next update...again sorry about the cliffhanger...I know that doesn't help considering your season finale/commercial analogy...

**Peanutmeg:** I agree that it would be very effective...Hope you're not too swamped with papers right now...:D

**D: **Hard to say how well Sweets could process such things after all the drugs and torture...As for Booth's wallet...He might still have his, but there is another wallet that is unaccounted for right now...

**BookWormie123: **Unfortunately, Andrew is very sick as well...I hope this update was fast enough. :D Thanks for the review.

**Abandon-Morality:** No, not a psycho, just a psych major who spends way too much time contemplating the potential darkness of the human psyche...I'll admit though that I have to put myself into a certain mode when writing for Andrew...It does not often come to me naturally.

**TimeWitch93: **If it helps at all, I will say that we are getting close to a major shift in the storyline. I won't reveal more than that. But we do have quite a few more chapters to go. Again, while Booth may have his wallet there are people and things which have not been accounted for...And yes, I enjoy seeing how Peter has changed through the years. Expect this to not be the last you will see of him...

**Blazing Rubellite: **I often get the sense that Andrew is jealous of the fact that Sweets was raised by people like David and Carolyn: David who was loving, wise and protective and Carolyn who was caring, supportive and nurturing. Such a contrast to his own parents. Also the fact that Sweets has become so much more than him cannot set well with Andrew...It wouldn't surprise me if he did want to "undo" everything that had been done to build Sweets from the ground up.

**Buttercups3: **Thanks for the review. :D I figured that conversation Peter had with Angela would be a treat for everyone who also reads my THotF fic. Sadly, it's often during moments when we've lost someone (or when we think we might lose someone) that regrets come to the surface. Since Peter is a lot like David, I figured that he would also be prone to ruminating over how he might have acted better over the years...And I will say that Peter will have more chances to show just how much he's willing to do for Sweets...

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 19

Back at the Medico-Legal lab, all eyes were on Hodgins, who was standing on the forensic platform, tapping away at the computers there. He ran through some chemical compounds with a detailed description of some insect larvae he discovered in his usual "king of the lab" voice. After a minute of this though, Booth sighted loudly and walked over to the entomologist.

"Hodgins," the agent said, exasperated. "What does all this mean?"

"It means that Jensen is hiding out nowhere near his dump-site," Hodgins declared. "My guess is that he's somewhere in Southern Virginia."

"Even though the plant spores you found initially pointed toward areas closer to where the victims were found?" Cam asked.

"I know, that confused me too at first," he nodded. "But then I remember what you said about the ketamine, and what Brennan said about how the victims were killed, shot while lying face down."

"The victims were killed at the dump-site," Brennan concluded. "Drugged and beaten, they wouldn't have put up much if any resistance. And since they were probably shot on the ground…."

"Exactly," Hodgins smiled. "The gunshot probably drove some of the spores into the body…So once I put the spores aside; I was able to better able to narrow down the region where the victims were beforehand."

"That's great, Jack," Angela said. "But that still leaves us with a lot of ground to cover."

"Yeah, but…Jensen would need an isolated location," Booth mused. "A house or a cabin of some kind…And I'm betting that there's a record of that somewhere."

Booth started down the forensic platform, and Brennan went to follow him.

"Tell Mr. Fisher, Mr. Bray and Mr. Vaziri to keep looking at the remains," the anthropologist told Cam as she took off her lab coat. "Have them call me if they find anything."

"Will do," Cam nodded.

As Booth and Brennan headed toward the door, Peter walked over to them.

"Hey what's going on?" he asked.

"We've got a lead," Booth said. "We just need to go back to the office to check on it."

"I'm coming with you," Peter said.

"Fine," Booth said. "You can help us look through some paperwork."

Peter nodded and fell into step with them. Angela, Hodgins, and Cam watched them leave with somber, anxious looks on their faces. They hoped that they were close to finding Sweets.

But they were also convinced that time was running out for the psychologist.

* * *

Upon arriving at the Hoover Building, Perotta met up with Booth and the others.

"I've got the files you asked for in the conference room," she said. "Anything else you need?"

"Yeah, get me everything you can on Browder's operation including tax stuff and financial records," Booth replied. "We should probably go through that too."

"You've got it," she nodded as she walked off. Booth, Brennan, and Peter then went into the conference room and sat down at the table.

"You think we can find what we're looking for in the drug dealer's records?" Brennan asked. "But I thought that he tried to stay out of Jensen's affairs as much as possible."

"That may be, but Browder was still Jensen's major source of income," Booth responded. "I'm betting that since Jensen managed to "persuade" Browder to make him a partner, their finances could be intermingled somewhat."

Booth picked up the stack of papers sitting on the table and divvied it up into three smaller piles. He pushed a stack toward Brennan and then one toward Peter before sitting down with a stack of his own.

"Look through these, keeping an eye out for anything involving a cabin or house in the woods," the agent instructed. "Also look for stuff you would need in the woods: camping supplies and the like."

The three of them started rifling through the papers and had been at it for almost a half hour when Perotta came in with another large stack of papers.

"Here's everything the Bureau could find on Browder," she said. "I'm going to go update Hacker on this case…Anything you want me to tell him?"

"Just to have a SWAT team ready if I need one," Booth said without looking up.

"All right," Perotta said. "I'll see how you're doing later."

"You really think Andrew would use this guy's money to get a place to hide out," Peter asked after Perotta left. "Wouldn't he be worried about him finding out?"

"Browder is too scared of Jensen to ask any questions," Booth replied. "Besides…it's just the kind of thing he would do….Stick someone else with a potential crime scene."

Peter shuddered and went back to sorting through the papers, the three of them quietly working away as fast as they could.

* * *

After another round of unconsciousness, Sweets struggled to open his eyes, the lids slightly gummed up from his crying. He had spent the past two hours weeping, too caught up in his grief to care about what Andrew was doing or thinking. During that time, his coughing and shivering had worsened, and the pain from all of his injuries was becoming impossible to ignore. The result was that Sweets was unable to stay conscious and coherent for more than short periods of time.

Sweets' head fell to the side, and he looked at the now empty chair beside the bed. Andrew had finally taken the corpse away almost an hour ago, mocking Sweets' sorrow while he did it.

'_Say goodbye to him now, Lance,' he had sneered. 'I'll make sure to put him someplace where they'll never find him. Sad isn't it? That no one will ever know for sure what happened to him.'_

Sweets let himself pass out again at that point so as to avoid having to respond to Andrew's taunts. Even though he had made peace with the idea that he would probably be dying soon, Sweets found that he still did not want to give Andrew the satisfaction of seeing how broken he had become inside.

'_I should at least try to be strong,'_ he thought. '_It's what Booth would have done.'_

The therapist did not get to stay in oblivion for long before Andrew returned, waking him up with yet another dousing of icy water. After he was done, he stared at Sweets for a long time before reaching into his pocket. Jensen then pulled out a key and proceeded to unlock the psychologist's handcuffs. Sweets was finally free, but now he was too weak to even contemplate escaping or even resisting. When he tried to shift his position on the bed, Andrew backhanded him across the face.

"Lance, I've been thinking," Andrew said as he leaned against the wall. "All this time we've spent together and you haven't asked once where this is all leading to. And I'm wondering why that is."

"I know…I know where it's going," Sweets croaked out. "You're going to kill me…Like you did Anders, that policeman, Lillian, and…"

Sweets swallowed hard; he couldn't bring himself to add Booth's name to Jensen's list of victims.

"But…even if you kill me, it won't change a thing," the therapist added. "It won't change your father's abuse or your mother's indifference. It won't change how Lillian walked away from you, and it won't erase all of the hardships you've had to face in life."

"You know…you're right, Lance," Andrew chuckled. "About all of it…You're absolutely right."

Suddenly, Andrew dropped down to sit on the bed and grabbed Sweets' throat with both hands. The psychologist tried to pull his hands away, but Jensen's grip was far too strong for him to break in his condition.

"Even if you are right though, what's the point of it," Andrew snarled, starting to squeeze Sweets' throat. "Your so-called 'shrink skills' mean nothing here…Those people are all still dead, and you're still here. And here, I can do anything I want to do to you…I could even kill you."

Just as suddenly, Jensen let the therapist go and stood back up. Sweets desperately gasped for air.

"Or I could let you live for now," Andrew said. "There's a lot more that we could go over. Who says the fun has to end anytime soon?"

Andrew reached into his back pocket and slowly pulled something out. Sweets was not able to completely bite back a whimper of fear at what he saw in his hand.

It was a thin, leather strap. Almost identical to the one Andrew had used on him when he was five…Almost identical to the one that had carved permanent scars onto his back.

Andrew grinned at the fear that he sensed from Sweets.

"I see you still remember this," Jensen said, holding up the strap. "Now let's see if you remember what it's like when I use it."

* * *

Meanwhile inside one of the Hoover Building's conference room, Booth, Brennan and Peter continued to sort through all of the paperwork. Thus far nothing had promising had been found, so Booth moved onto Browder's records.

'_We need to find a way to narrow this down,'_ he thought. '_Something that could point us in the right direction.'_

Booth flipped through a few more papers, but was quickly becoming frustrated. He was sure that Andrew was continuing to torture Sweets and was worried that the psychologist would soon run out of the strength he needed to hold on.

That is, if Andrew hadn't killed him already.

The agent shook his head slightly; he knew that he needed to focus if there was to be any chance of finding Sweets alive. Glancing over at Brennan, who was methodically scanning through her papers, Booth couldn't help but contemplate the irony that he would have to use her brand of detachment in order to think clearly.

'_All these times Sweets told Bones that she was denying her feelings with her tendency to compartmentalize, and yet that's exactly what we'll need to do to save him,' _he thought. '_Maybe denial isn't always a bad thing.'_

That line of thought made Booth think again about Andrew's ex-girlfriend. The agent was pretty sure that there was some heavy denial going on for her to even consider marrying Jensen.

'_At least she had the sense to leave him when she saw what kind of history he has…Still the idea that she thought he was husband material and that he worked in the mail-order business seems pretty hard to swallow.'_

'_Unless…unless there was something more than Andrew's word that that's what he was doing…Something that made her believe his story…'_

Booth began frantically shuffling through Browder's records. He remembered a mention of some mail-order business somewhere in the dealer's financial records. Originally, he had thought that it was some kind of supplier for Browder's meth lab, but then he remembered something nagging him about the way the forms looked.

Soon the agent found what he was looking for.

"Look at this," he said, showing the paper to Brennan and Peter. "This is invoices from a mail-order business that Browder was running…I think it's actually a shell company that Jensen put up for his own purposes."

"But his name isn't anywhere on those forms," Brennan said. "How can you be sure that it's not something that Browder set up himself."

"Because that's not Browder's signature," Booth said, holding up another form. "Besides, look at some of the stuff that was ordered: rope, chains, handcuffs, camping supplies, ice…This is the kind of stuff he would need if he was off in the woods somewhere and needed to restrain someone."

"Is there an address?" Peter asked.

"Just a P.O. Box," Booth muttered. The agent moved over to his laptop which he had set up in the room and entered the address into the FBI's database. After a minute or two, a result flashed on the screen.

"Found it," Booth said triumphantly, writing the results down on a slip of paper. "It's at a post office that's not too far from one of the bigger forests in the area where Hodgins said to look."

All three of them leapt to their feet and left the conference room. As they walked out, Perotta ran up to meet them in the hallway.

"Any news?" she asked. Booth handed her the slip of paper.

"Call the forest rangers who work in the area written on that paper and tell them to meet up with me when I get there. Give them Jensen's description and ask them if they could guide me and a team to the place where he might be staying. I'm going to go let Hacker know that I need that SWAT team now to go with me."

"Right," Perotta said before hurrying off. "And I'm going with you too."

Booth nodded and continued to make his way toward Hacker's office.

"I want to come too," Brennan said.

"As do I," Peter said. Booth stopped in his tracks and turned to them.

"Listen…Jensen's deranged, ok?" the agent said. "We know that he has at least one gun which he used to kill someone he was supposed to be allied with….And who knows how many more guns he could have…I'm sure he won't hesitate to use them on us."

"I've been in dangerous situations with you before, Booth," Brennan said. "I know the risks, but…I'm your partner, and I should go with you."

"Agent Booth…I can't just sit here while you go find Lance," Peter said. "I'm a soldier, and I know how to handle myself in dangerous situations…Please…let me help."

Booth sighed and rubbed his eyes; as much as he didn't want to take them with him, he knew that he could use their support right now.

"All right," he relented. "But both of you are wearing vests…and you're staying in the car until it's safe…got it?"

* * *

Andrew was sitting on the bed, bringing the strap down over and over again onto Sweets' back. He had ripped the tee-shirt the psychologist was wearing off, and had sat down on top of Sweets to hold him down.

At first, all that registered with Sweets was the pain of the leather hitting his already bruised flesh. But as the familiarity of the situation sunk in, Sweets began to have a panic attack.

'_It's just like that night….The night when….when he whipped me before.'_

Memories of being a terrified five-year-old raced through his mind; his pupils dilated and his breathing sped up.

'_No please…don't…don't take me back to that night…'_

Soon the therapist was reliving that night in his mind: the fear, the pain, Andrew's senseless rage….all of it filled his brain, shutting down any rational thought.

"What's the matter, Lance?" Andrew yelled over the cracks of the strap, oblivious to the psychologist's distress. "Nothing to say now? Am I not getting through to you?"

When Sweets didn't respond, Jensen increased the ferocity of his beatings. When he finally broke the skin, the pain jarred Sweets back to reality, making him scream in agony.

Andrew watched the blood run out of the lash that had opened up, fascinated at how it ran along the psychologist's scars. He had been steadily taking more and more meth when he wasn't tormenting Sweets, and that along with something about seeing all that blood made something snap in Andrew's mind. Something that made him hit Sweets even harder.

"Maybe I should go after that bone lady next after I'm done with this," Andrew yelled over Sweets' cries. "I'll bet she'll make even better company for you…I'd love to see what I could do to her to make her scream."

Even caught up in the haze of pain and the terror of his memories, Sweets could hear what Andrew was planning and had started to weep again.

'_No…He already got Booth…I can't let him get Brennan…'_

'_I have to give him what he wants…'_

Tears still streaming out of his eyes, Sweets opened his mouth to speak.

"Please…please….Daddy, no more," he cried out.

The moment he said it, Andrew stopped and got off the bed. He then crouched down beside the psychologist and tilted Sweets' head toward him.

"What did you say, Lance?" Andrew asked. Sweets continued to shake and weep, humiliated and demoralized at his own words.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he sobbed. "I'm sorry for what I did…Please…please stop."

Sweets buried his face into the mattress, unable to look at Andrew anymore. He had been broken...in every sense of the word.

Andrew took Sweets' hand and patted it.

"Don't worry, Lance," he murmured with a chilling calmness. "I'm going to make it so that you'll never hurt again….Because it's time for you to sleep…Forever."


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: I know it's been a few days since I updated, but here's the next chapter. I hope you will find that it was worth the wait...:D

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. This is just a hobby, folks. ;)

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you...It can be hard to write those kinds of scenes, so I'm glad they still felt powerful enough to enjoy. This chapter might be a welcome change...

**Misscruel: **No problem, glad that you are enjoying it thus far. :) And as far as Booth saving the day...well a lot will be answered in this chapter.

**D: **And there's the thing of it. I'm sure Andrew is not thinking that far ahead. He's only thinking in terms of his rage and jealousy right now. And you might not be far off in Andrew's method of dealing with the consequences for his actions...As for Perotta and Peter...how old is Perotta anyway? Peter is supposed to be 28 by this point, so I don't know how much of an age difference there is...I'm with you in thinking that Peter would make a fine agent of the Bureau, but he would need to go back to school since he skipped college to enlist upon graduating from high school. Still, I believe he could definitely do it if he put his mind to it...

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. :D I hope you are able to make some headway on all those papers you need to sort through...

**Super Ario: **Sorry, I know that I am kind of mean sometimes...But as to whether Sweets will be able to come out of this intact...it will be up to him and his support system of friends and family...all of whom are extremely dedicated as you will see over time...

**Blazing Rubellite: **Well I can at least promise you that this chapter will not be that disturbing...or will have such a brutal cliffhanger. We will have to see if B&B are too late after all...

**Buttercups3: **As much as Sweets might try to remain "strong" in the way he imagines it, anyone would have a hard time to hold their ground while trying to survive in conditions like that...And yes, Andrew has gone off the deep end in times recent, and thus isn't always thinking beyond his basest thoughts...It's too bad that prisons can't hold someone based on potential to cause great harm to society...And as to how Booth will feel upon seeing what has happened to his Baby Duck...we shall soon see...**  
**

**Fearlee: **Yeah, I think a lot of my loyal readers are learning to hate cliffhangers. :D But I don't think I can break my addiction to them...And thanks for your review. I love to communicate with my readers, thus why I try to respond to my reviews.**..**I hope you enjoy this new chapter. :D**  
**

**TimeWitch93: **You can be sure that B&B along with Peter are moving as fast as possible**...**As to whether or not they make it in time...read on...**  
**

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 20

Booth sped along the highway in his SUV, Brennan beside him and Peter in the back seat. Hacker had contacted him while he was on the road to let him know that the SWAT team was close behind and would arrive at their destination only minutes after Booth once they knew exactly where they were going. Moments after Hacker let him go, Perotta called him on his cell phone.

"I sent Jensen's picture to the authorities there and apparently a couple of the forest rangers remember seeing him around," she told him after giving him directions to his destination. "They said that they know where he's staying in the woods, and that they would guide us to it once we get there."

"Ok, tell the SWAT team to meet us out there…and make sure to send an ambulance out to those woods and maybe even make arrangements for emergency transport," Booth said. "I think we might need them."

"Understood," Perotta said. "I'm with the team now so we're already heading up to meet you...And I'll make sure about the rest of it as well."

"Booth…do you think that Sweets is still alive?" Brennan asked after Booth hung up from Perotta. "Jensen has had him for so long. What if he…?"

"I don't know, ok Bones," Booth said quietly. "But we're not going to give up now. I mean, you heard Gordon Gordon, you know that he tends to be right about this kind of thing...Jensen's got some kind of twisted 'unfinished business' with Sweets, so he's going to keep him around for a while... Besides, you're the one who's always telling me to never speculate before all the facts are in."

"I suppose you're right," Brennan said. "There is no point in focusing on vague possibilities."

Booth glanced back at Peter with his rear-view mirror. The soldier had said nothing during this whole trip, but Booth could easily see that he was fuming over the situation. He was glad that Peter did not have a gun because he wasn't sure how Peter would respond if Sweets was already dead when they arrived.

After all, Booth wasn't entirely sure how he would respond either.

* * *

Andrew was surprised at how difficult his latest task had become. He had dragged Sweets off of the bed he was laying on by the arms and had moved the psychologist to the adjoining room. It was a short distance, but Andrew was already slightly out of breath.

"You know, you're heavier than you look, Lance," Jensen huffed as he pulled him along.

Sweets didn't respond. The way Andrew was yanking him was causing him even more agony, but he was past showing any sign of distress. His mind was starting to shut down, unable to process any more emotional or mental trauma.

Once they had reached the center of the room, Andrew let Sweets flop to the floor. There beside him was some kind of trap door. Andrew opened it to reveal a small vat that was filled with ice and water.

"I found this not long after I bought myself this little hideaway," Andrew said, indicating the recess in the floor. "I have no idea why it was put there, but I've found it useful when I needed to stash something away…And for other purposes as well."

Jensen then sat down on the concrete floor beside Sweets.

"Lance…I'm going to give you something that my father would have never given me if he had had the chance," Andrew continued. "A peaceful exit from this world."

He then rolled Sweets into the hole. The psychologist gasped loudly and violently shook when his body made contact with the frigid water. He struggled to pull himself out, but his injuries made him too frail to do so. As the scrambled around, Sweets realized that the water was not deep enough to drown him. The therapist was able to move into a sitting position, and found that his head down to the tips of his shoulders could stay above the water.

"It's cold, I know," Andrew droned, watching Sweets' every move. "It will probably hurt at first, but that won't last too long. Soon you'll stop feeling anything, and you'll fall asleep…It's best not to fight it, Lance…Just let yourself drift away."

Sweets shivered, his breath coming out in desperate stutters. The cold was seeping into him quickly, and at first he tried to think of ways to conserve his body heat. But soon he noticed that he was becoming too drowsy to fight. Sweets slumped back against the floor of the vat and let his limbs hang loosely.

"That's it Lance," Andrew said. "Don't fight…Just let yourself go…There's no reason for you to hold on anymore. Soon you will sleep, and it will be the end of your worthless life…Besides, you have nothing to live for anyway…."

Sweets grew even more sluggish and tired. His shivering was already starting to slow down, and his body was growing blissfully numb. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep like Andrew was suggesting.

'_No more,' _the therapist thought as he lost consciousness. '_I don't want to hold on any longer.'_

Andrew smiled as he watched Sweets' eyes roll back, and his head loll to the side. He then stood up and closed the door to the vat, placing a throw rug over the door to hide it.

"You see, don't you, Lance?" Jensen muttered. "I was able to be a better father to you after all…Now, enjoy your rest."

Andrew walked out of the room, a strange sort of emptiness filling him. He always knew that killing his son would not bring him any happiness, just completion. But he was disturbed by the fact that he was unsure of what he wanted to do now that it was all over.

Andrew tried to shrug the feeling off, deciding to take some more meth while he contemplated his next move in life.

* * *

When Booth and the others arrived at the edge of the woods, the agent quickly briefed his team on the situation and on their instructions.

"All right, this guy is armed and extremely dangerous," Booth said. "He's already killed at least four people including an FBI agent, so be careful. He has taken Doctor Sweets as a hostage, so our number one priority is finding and securing Doctor Sweets. I would like to take Jensen alive…but take any necessary precautions to protect yourselves." He then turned to some EMTs who had showed up while he was talking.

"You guys hang back behind us and wait until we give an all clear," the agent told them. "But be ready to act when we need you."

Booth then met up with a forest ranger, who said his name was "just Chad".

"The guy you're looking for is in this weird cabin about a mile from the edge of the forest," Chad said. "There's a main road that leads all the way up to it, but there's also a side road that stops a few feet from it. He won't be able to see us coming from that direction."

"Sounds good," Booth nodded. "Go ahead and lead the way. We will follow you from behind."

* * *

Andrew sat on the couch in his front room, staring out the windows. It had taken a larger amount than usual, but he was finally starting to feel his sought after high from the meth. He was thinking yet again about how he wished that he could always feel the way he did right now when a twinge of regret nagged at him. He shook his head angrily.

'_That brat got what he deserved,'_ he told himself. '_Besides, he should be grateful. If I hadn't run away when I did, my father would have made sure that I went out in a much worse way…So the brat got off easy…I've got nothing to be sorry about….And he's the lucky one anyway…He doesn't have to put up with this world of misery anymore…I did him a favor.'_

A flicker of movement outside the window caught his eye, and Andrew bolted upright. He started outside for a while, but saw nothing. Jensen gritted his teeth as he continued to check the front of the cabin; while he always enjoyed the high he got off the meth, Andrew had learned to hate the jitters he often felt after taking it. It was one of the reasons that he normally would hold back on the amount he used.

Andrew slouched back into the cushions and closed his eyes. He knew this feeling would eventually pass and had decided to just sit still and ride the paranoia out. His eyes flew back open, however, at the sound of footsteps stomping toward the house.

"FBI!" came the muffled yell outside the door. Andrew started to get up, but the door burst open before he could act. Agents with flak jackets on and riffles drawn streamed in and surrounded Andrew. They only parted when Booth came in through the center of them, his sidearm pointed at him.

"We did a sweep of this room," one of the agents said. "He's not here."

"Start searching the whole house and the grounds," Booth ordered. "And make sure those EMTs are ready to move." He then turned his attention back toward Andrew, yanking him to his feet and slamming him against the wall.

"Where is he?" Booth growled at him. Andrew smirked and began to laugh.

"You're too late Fed," he chortled. "You can't save him now…He's gone, and you'll never find him."

Booth cocked his gun and placed the muzzle firmly against Andrew's temple.

"Don't think for one second that I won't end you right here and now," Booth said, rage building. "Tell me where he is."

"Go ahead…Shoot. Then you'll never know," Andrew mocked him. "It won't change the fact that I've won and you lost…Big bad fed couldn't save the day this time."

Booth shoved him against the wall again, frustrated. He could tell that Andrew was tweaking again and was probably beyond fear right now. Even though the drugs were talking for Jensen, the agent was certain that Andrew was being somewhat truthful about Sweets running out of time….if he hadn't already. Booth's mind raced as he tried to devise some way to make Jensen talk.

* * *

Outside the cabin, both Brennan and Peter were growing restless. They had watched Booth storm in with the agents, but became concerned as minutes slipped by with no sign of him or Sweets. More agents were swarming around the grounds and the EMTs stood waiting to move, but there was no sign that anyone had found the psychologist.

After a couple more minutes of pacing, Peter turned and marched toward the house.

"Sgt. Sweets, I don't think Booth would want you to go in right now," she called after him. He didn't stop, however, and she didn't hesitate to follow him inside, tired of not knowing anything herself.

Inside, Booth still had Andrew pinned to the wall, his eyes locked in an icy stare with Jensen while he heard Brennan and Peter approach.

"Booth is Sweets all right?" the anthropologist said as she walked closer toward them. Booth turned to answer her, but a strangled sound from Andrew stopped him. He looked to see that Andrew was staring over his shoulder, fear finally showing in his eyes.

"No…no it can't be," Andrew whispered. "You're dead…You can't be here."

The agent looked around and realized that Jensen was staring at Peter.

Andrew continued to tremble under Booth's grip. In his drug-induced delirium, all he could see were the vivid green eyes, intense expression, and the tall imposing figure that triggered memories from years ago. It was a memory that Andrew knew he would never forget…for it had been one of the few times since his father that he had been afraid of anyone.

'_He's __**my**__ son and don't you forget it.'_

'_If you ever come near me, my wife or my son…I will kill you.'_

Andrew shuddered as David's voice ran through his mind. On the day that Lance's adoption had been made final, David had cornered Andrew in the courtroom hallway and threw him to the ground. David then made it clear what would happen if Andrew ever went near Lance again. Every time he remembered it, Andrew grew enraged at how David had made him feel small and helpless. How his threats had kept him away from Lance for all those years.

But most of all, in a place that he didn't like to visit, Andrew had been hurt and jealous that his own son was being cared for by someone like David….A man who loved him and would do anything to protect him….an experience Andrew knew he would never have.

Back in the present, Booth and Brennan were stunned at Andrew's reaction to Peter. But the soldier quickly took the initiative and walked over to grab Andrew away from Booth.

"Where's Lance?" Peter practically shouted at him. "Tell me now…or else."

"No…you can't be here," Andrew whimpered again. "You can't." Inspiration struck Peter as he began to guess what Andrew was thinking. He tightened his grip, his green eyes ablaze.

"I said that I would make you pay if you ever went near him," Peter snarled. "So tell me where he is before I make good on my promise."

"He's…he's in the basement," Andrew said, cowering.

"Show me," Peter insisted.

"All right….all right," Andrew whispered.

Peter let him go, and Jensen slowly headed down toward the basement with Booth, Brennan and Peter following him. When they got there, Booth flinched at the bed that had handcuffs dangling from the bed posts. He was sure that Sweets had been confined there, and didn't want to think about the kinds of things that Andrew had probably done to him while he laid there, helpless.

Andrew shuffled into the side room and kicked the rug that was covering the trap door off to the side.

"In there," Andrew whispered.

Booth shoved Andrew toward two agents that had followed them down, and they restrained him.

"Hold him," Booth ordered as he crouched down to the floor. Peter and Brennan crouched down with him while he opened the door. All of them gasped at what they found inside.

There, in a shallow pool of water, was Sweets. He was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts and his eyes were closed. He had remained still even after Booth opened up the vat. The few areas of Sweets' skin that wasn't mottled with bruises or burns had turned blue-grey.

"Lance…Lance, can you hear us?" Peter asked, his voice taking on a frantic edge.

"We need to get him out of there," Brennan said. "This icy water could kill him within minutes."

"Get those EMTs down here now," Booth yelled. One of the agents ran off to get them, the other still holding onto Andrew. Booth turned back toward Peter.

"Think you can help me lift him?" he asked Peter.

"You know I will," Peter said, positioning himself beside Booth.

"Be very careful while lifting him out," Brennan cautioned as she moved the rug back over so they could lay the psychologist onto it. "From the look of it, Sweets is suffering from severe hypothermia. If you move his limbs around too much, chilled blood will rush back toward the core of his body, possibly causing cardiac arrest."

Andrew watched all this, rage coursing through him.

'_No…He's gone now…They can't save him…Not now…'_

Suddenly, Andrew lunged for the agent holding him and managed to grab his rifle away from him. He then aimed it toward Peter.

"No!" he screamed. "You won't save him again…I won't let you this time." Jensen then tried to pull the trigger.

But Booth was faster. He pulled out his sidearm and shot Andrew between the eyes before he had a chance to act. Jensen twitched for half a second and then fell down dead. Booth stared at Andrew's lifeless body, trying to process what had just happened. He knew that he had had to do what he did in order to protect Brennan and Peter.

But Booth never enjoyed killing others….and he certainly did not know how to feel about killing Sweets' biological father.

"Booth…we have to get Sweets out of this water or he will die," Brennan said urgently. Her voice broke Booth's trance, and he placed his focus back onto the task at hand.

Booth, Brennan and Peter gingerly lifted Sweets out of the water and onto the rug that Brennan had placed nearby. As he sat him down, Booth couldn't help but notice how stiff and cold the psychologist was.

"Is...is he…?" Peter gulped, unable to finish the question. Brennan placed her fingers on either side of Sweets' neck. She was silent for a couple moments and then shook her head.

"He's alive…but just barely," Brennan said. "His pulse and breathing have been greatly reduced because of the hypothermia."

As she said this, the EMTs came in, and Booth directed them over to Sweets. Booth then stood and moved away while they tended to him. Brennan stood nearby and reported what she could about the psychologist's condition to them. Peter continued to kneel beside Sweets and had reached down to gently stroke his cousin's hair.

"Lance…it's Peter," he murmured. "Stay with us, ok? We've got you, so you're safe now….Just stay with us…."

One of the medics walked over to Booth while the rest readied Sweets for transport.

"We think we've got him stabilized, but he's in critical condition and doesn't have much time," the medic told Booth. "A chopper will be here any second, and we're going to airlift him to a hospital in DC. They're better equipped to take care of him than any place around here."

The medic gave Booth the name of the hospital and then left with the rest of the EMTs to take Sweets outside. The second after they left, Perotta came in to meet Booth.

"You found Doctor Sweets?" she asked. "Is he ok?"

"No, he's not," Brennan said as she walked over. "They're taking him to a hospital now."

"I see," Perotta nodded sadly. She looked over at Andrew's corpse and then back at Booth.

"I'm sure no one's going to object to what you did," she said. "But there's a lot here that needs to be processed, Booth, including another body that they found just outside the cabin."

"I know," Booth said, running his hands over his face. "I'll…I'll…."

"I'll handle it," Perotta offered. "I can oversee everything here and report back to you. You and Doctor Brennan should go stay with Doctor Sweets…He needs you far more than you need to be here."

"Are you sure? I'll probably have to talk to someone since I killed a suspect implicated in a multiple homicide case that includes a federal agent," Booth said.

"I'll talk to Hacker," Perotta said. "I'm sure he wouldn't object to sending someone over to the hospital to talk to you. Besides, I picture this being an open and shut case as far as Jensen goes."

"Thank you, Peyton," Booth mumbled. He then walked out with Brennan and Peter following him. Once outside, they could see the helicopter that was carrying Sweets off in the distance. They watched it disappear as it flew away and then went back to Booth's car. The three of them got in and took off back toward DC.

The trip was a silent one until Brennan pulled out her cell phone and called the Jeffersonian so she could update the others on the situation.

"Cam said that her, Hodgins, Angela and Wyatt are going to meet us at the hospital," Brennan said as she hung up.

"Fine," Booth said, his voice dulled.

"Booth…statistically speaking, victims who receive prompt, expert care for their hypothermia tend to recover," the anthropologist added.

"Don't refer to Lance like he's a statistic," Peter snapped.

"Leave her alone," Booth retorted, his eyes narrowing.

"It's ok, Booth," Brennan said as she shifted to face Peter. "I'm sorry if I agitated you, Sgt. Sweets. I was just trying to explain that there is a good likelihood that Doctor Sweets will survive his injuries. The hospital they are taking him to is one of the best in this area of the country."

Peter nodded, but didn't respond and went back to watching the road silently. Brennan moved to face forward again and decided to remain quiet as well.

Booth brooded as he drove. Brennan's assurances were not nearly enough to erase the memory of Sweets' broken, stiff body from his mind. When he tried to concentrate on the road, all Booth could think about were the numerous bruises he had seen, the remnants of blisters near scarlet burns, the fresh whip marks that had cut the skin open on Sweets' back.

At the front of Booth's mind though was how lifeless Sweets had seemed in his arms.

'_Jensen…he didn't just try to kill him…He tortured him…Probably in all sorts of ways…He put Sweets through hell,'_ he thought to himself.

Booth ground his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. While there might be a statistical probability that Sweets' body could stay alive, Booth was beginning to have grave doubts that the same could be said of Sweets' mind or soul.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: Yes, another chapter already. I'm kind of on a roll with this one. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this

**Blazing Rubellite: **Well you are correct...this is not over yet. Nor did I think that it would be realistic to have the reunion erase everything that happened...But I can confirm that things will not remain as dark as they have been for long...

**Super Ario: **The short(er) answer to your questions is that this fic was not originally conceived as a direct sequel to TNotM, and thus, I had always planned on this being much longer than that fic was...Sweets' recovery will mostly be dealt with in the remaining chapters...As to how it will go...that will have to be revealed over time...And as I have alluded to before, I have quite a few chapters planned before I end this one...

**Peanutmeg: **It is a great feeling to be caught up. :D Thanks for the review. Enjoy a prompt update...

**Lives in the now: **I always thought that it would be the best kind of justice if Andrew met his end at the hands of David (indirectly) and Booth (directly) being as how pivotal the two of them have been in Sweets' life. Thanks for the review.

**Black Forests: **Thank you! :D I'm hoping to keep up this pace of updates for the rest of the month at least. I hope you enjoy this update as well.

**D: **It's the kind of twisted values that I could see someone, who thinks that it's ok to beat a child until they have permanent scars, having. And I concur about the idea that it's good to spare Sweets from a trial as you will see in this chapter...As for Peter's future...let's just say that we have not seen the last of him after this fic is over...

**Buttercups3: **Yeah, again, I thought that it would be a great sort of justice if Andrew was taken out by both parts of Sweets' family (his formally adopted and informally adopted ones). And thanks for the comment on my bit with B&B...I do enjoy throwing bits like that...As for Sweets' recovery, it will not be an easy one...but it won't be a lonely one either...

**Abandon-Morality: **Well here's an update. Hope that was fast enough. :D

**Lessthansign3: **Yeah, I had a feeling that a lot of people would be glad to see him go ever since I introduced him in the first chapter of THotF. And I agree that this sort of trauma could not be handled by a childhood Sweets...But Sweets has a lot more to draw his strength from by this point in his life...As I mentioned at another point, the title of this fic has more than one meaning behind it...

**Fearlee: **Thanks. :D I will admit to enjoying the idea of taking my readers on a ride through drama, angst, humor and fluff...all mixed together. So I'm very happy that you are enjoying the journey...And thanks for the comments on the part with Andrew and Peter. I always intended Peter to be sort of like a younger version of David (with some very significant differences) so I thought that there would be a special kind of irony in him playing a hand in Andrew's downfall.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 21

Upon arriving at the hospital, Booth, Brennan, and Peter were met by Cam, Hodgins, and Angela all of whom rushed over to them. Wyatt came up slowly from behind.

"What happened?" Angela asked. "Did Sweets say anything before he….?"

"Sweets was unconscious when we found him," Brennan said. "Have the doctors given you any information?"

"Only that he's arrived, and that they are treating him now," Cam said. "Nothing on his condition other than it being critical."

"What about that bastard, Jensen?" Hodgins asked. "I hope you weren't too gentle with him when you arrested him."

"Yeah…if there was ever a person who deserved to get a needle stuck in his arm, it's him," Angela said.

"That's…not going to happen," Booth mumbled, looking down and to the side. Cam watched him and quickly discerned the meaning of his words, as did the others soon afterward.

"Well, I, for one, am grateful for that," the pathologist said.

"Why? That dirtbag should have been confronted with what he did," Hodgins said. "He deserved to squirm and suffer while waiting for his punishment."

"Because this way there will be no trial," Cam said solemnly. "Since Sweets is the only one of Jensen's victims to survive, he would have to testify about what was done to him….And I'm glad that Sweets won't have to endure that."

Everyone nodded as the truth of Cam's words sunk in. The pathologist noticed how disturbed Booth seemed and walked over to place her hand into one of his.

"Seeley…I know that you don't enjoy taking people's lives, but you did the right thing here," she told him. "Jensen did nothing but kill people and destroy lives. Someone needed to take him off the face of the earth."

"I'd venture that it is not the wrongs that Jensen did that is weighing so heavily on Agent Booth's mind," Wyatt said. "It is the one good thing that Jensen did that is giving him pause right now."

"Good?" Angela said, incredulous. "Jensen was a murderer, a drug dealer, and a sadistic bully. How can you say that he did anything that could be considered good?"

"He helped to bring Doctor Sweets into this world," Wyatt responded. "Despite the destruction Jensen left in his wake, there is the undeniable truth that he is partially responsible for Doctor Sweets' existence…A truth that I believe Agent Booth is grappling with."

"You know what? No…No I'm not," Booth snapped, looking up. "He aimed a gun at us, so I shot him. End of story. And…And besides that, Jensen killed a bunch of people including a federal agent. So no, it's not 'weighing on my mind' at all."

Everyone looked down and away, unsure of their ability to say the appropriate thing in this moment. Cam finally took the initiative and turned to face the group.

"I found a waiting room near here that is a little more private and that actually has some decent chairs and couches," she said. "Why don't we move there for now? I can go let the nurses know where we are and check to see if they have any news for us."

"I think that would be best," Brennan said.

"Sounds good," Hodgins nodded.

* * *

They shuffled into the room that Cam had indicated and settled in while she left to inform the staff at the nurse's station of their whereabouts and to check again on Sweets' condition.

Brennan sat down on one of the couches next to Booth and took the agent's hand.

"You should get some sleep," she told him. "You've been working almost nonstop for approximately three days now."

"Not until I know how Sweets is doing," Booth insisted.

"Booth, Sweets' injuries were very severe. It will probably be hours before they can make any kind of definitive assessment on his condition," she said.

"You're not really making me feel any better there, Bones," Booth sighed.

"I promise you that the minute they are ready to give us any information, I will wake you up so you can hear it," Brennan said.

Booth slumped downward; truthfully he was extremely tired physically along with mentally and emotionally drained. He knew that Brennan was right in saying that he needed rest and that it would be a long time before they heard anything anyway. Plus, he was certain that when the time came for them to tell them something, he would want to be more lucid and calm than he was now.

"All right, Bones," he said, moving to lean against the back of the couch. "But remember…the second they come out…you be sure to…."

"I will," the anthropologist replied. Booth nodded and closed his eyes. Minutes later he was asleep.

Cam eventually returned with no news about the psychologist's condition. The room remained quiet after that with only Angela and Hodgins occasionally murmuring to each other breaking up the silence. As the hours wore on, everyone, save for Peter and Wyatt, eventually fell asleep where they were sitting, exhausted from their efforts to find Sweets.

* * *

Peter was restless, shifting about uncomfortably in his chair. He wanted to be able to pace about, but worried about waking up the others. Wyatt noticed the soldier's pensive mood and moved to sit next to him.

"Sgt. Sweets…you've been quite reticent since you arrived here," Wyatt murmured. Peter shrugged and stretched his legs out in front of him.

"What's there for me to say?" Peter mumbled. "Andrew's dead. Lance's is in the emergency room, fighting for his life…I don't know if I see a point in saying anything more."

The chef watched Peter contemplate the tiled floor for a couple moments before leaning close to him.

"Your cousin is a strong man," Wyatt said.

"You don't need to tell me that. I know he is," Peter scowled. "Tell me, did you ever see what that monster carved into his back? I have…I've known how tough Lance is since he was a kid."

"But still…something is bothering you. Something beyond the normal concern that one would have for family in these grave circumstances," Wyatt mused.

"Peter was startled but soon shifted his attention back to the floor. He took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to regain some control over his emotions.

"You don't know…You don't know how much Lance meant to Uncle David," Peter said, refusing to look up. "I remember the day he took me aside, and he told me a few things about Lance's past…It tore him up to just talk about it, let alone think about it….Then…toward the end of his life…he sent me a letter."

Peter clenched his hands tightly, his frame trembling slightly.

"He told me about how proud he was of me and how much my father would be proud to see the man I had become," he continued. "Then…you know, he actually begged for my forgiveness for this…then he pleaded with me to keep an eye on Lance after he was gone…David…he told me that Lance admired me like an older brother and he…he didn't want to think about Lance being all alone in the world after he and Carolyn were gone…A few months later, he and Aunt Carolyn passed away."

"And so you took this on?" Wyatt inquired. "Carried out your aunt and uncle's final wishes for their son?"

"It wasn't like that," Peter spat out before he could stop himself. "Lance is like a brother to me…I didn't mind being the one to help look after him…Someone like him….There should be someone looking out for him…."

"But you also know that the last thing your uncle ever wanted was for Jensen to get a hold of his son again," Wyatt added. "It's that along with your affection for your cousin that is eating away at you."

"This would have broken Uncle David's heart," Peter choked out. "To know that…that this happened to his son…Uncle David was a good person…So is Lance. Something like this shouldn't happen to him…He's smart. He cares so much for people and is always trying to help them…I shouldn't have let it happen."

Wyatt patted Peter's shoulder causing the soldier to look up at him at last.

"Sgt. Sweets…as painful as this all is, there was nothing you could have done to prevent it," he told Peter. "What is important now is where you are going from here."

Peter tilted his head quizzically, and Wyatt leaned back in his chair.

"Instead of berating yourself for what has now passed, you need to concentrate on being strong for the future," Wyatt said. "Your cousin needs you desperately, and you will need to be ready to help him shoulder his burdens and work through his trauma. There will be no room for doubt or remorse over what you might have done."

"You're right," Peter said quietly. "You're right, of course. It's about Lance now…Not about what I should have done…It was dumb of me to get distracted that way."

"Yes, well…I have a feeling that you're not the only person who needs to hear this," Wyatt muttered.

Peter was about to ask the chef what he meant by that when a woman wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard walked into the room. Peter and Wyatt immediately got up and started to wake everyone else up. After a moment of nudging and stirring, everyone was to their feet and had surrounded the doctor.

"Doctor Leslie Werner," Wyatt smiled as he extended his hand. "A pleasure to see you again." Werner, a short, willowy woman with large hazel eyes and mostly grey hair, smiled back and shook Wyatt's hand.

"Doctor Gordon Wyatt. It is good to see you too," she said. "I did not know that you were connected with this case."

"You two know each other?" Booth asked, pointing at each of them.

"I met Doctor Wyatt during my first year of medical school," Werner answered. "By then he was already preparing to go into psychiatry."

"Doctor Werner was the best in her class," Wyatt added. "If she is in charge, our Doctor Sweets is in excellent hands."

"Doctor…how is Lance, really?" Peter asked anxiously. Werner's face fell, and she shook her head.

"I think you all should sit down for this," she said solemnly, motioning toward the chairs. Everyone swiftly and silently sat back down while Werner flipped through the papers on her chart. She then sat down and looked around at the faces staring at her.

"It took some doing, but we were finally able to stabilize Doctor Sweets," Werner said. "His hypothermia was extreme so it was not easy. We ended up having to use a combination of forcing warm air into his lungs with using a machine that slowly drew out his blood, re-warmed it, and re-circulated it back into his body. Despite these aggressive techniques to raise his body temperature, Doctor Sweets crashed three times in the ER and required resuscitation multiple times."

"Oh my God," Angela said, tears in her eyes. Hodgins put his arm around her and held her close.

"Eventually we were able to raise his temperature to a safer level, but then there were all of the other injuries that needed attending to," the doctor said.

"What kinds of injuries?" Cam asked even though she doubted that she really wanted to know.

"Well…for starters he has some cracked ribs on the ride side of his abdomen," Werner answered. "Fortunately, it doesn't look like the bone splintered at all, so there shouldn't be any concerns about any of his organs getting punctured…A minor miracle considering that five of his ribs were cracked…However, the injury did manage to irritate the lining of the lungs, and I'm afraid that he has a pleural infection."

Is that serious?" Peter swallowed.

"It can be," Werner said. "But we drained off the excess fluid that was starting to build up, and we are treating it with an IV of antibiotics, so it should clear up. It will be painful for him though in the meantime."

"What else?" Brennan said, trying to sound as detached as possible.

"He has a broken tibia in his right leg," the doctor replied. "Simple fracture. We are putting it into a cast now, and it should heal correctly."

"May I see his X-rays at some point?" Brennan asked. Werner glanced over at Wyatt who nodded at her.

"All right Ms…."

"Doctor…Doctor Temperance Brennan," Brennan said.

"Doctor Brennan…I have heard of you, of course," Werner nodded. "I'll be sure to let you see the X-rays when you have time."

"Thank you," Brennan said.

"Yes…anyway….there is also a lot of deep muscle bruising all over Doctor Sweets' body," Werner continued. "Along with lacerations on his wrists and ankles."

"Probably from being chained to a bed for days," Booth mumbled through gritted teeth.

"That is congruent with this type of injury," Werner nodded sadly. "Also there was a series of first and second degree burns on his torso. We cleaned and treated them while we were taping up his ribs. There were also some lacerations on his back…It took quite a few stitches, but we were able to close those wounds up as well."

"You mean…he'll have even more scars on his back?" Peter asked, his eyes lighting up with fury.

"Wait…more?" Angela said, horrified.

"We will do everything we can to reduce the possibility of scarring, but we can't guarantee anything," Werner responded.

"Is there more?" Booth asked, his voice growing thick with emotion.

"I'm afraid so…We took a blood sample and discovered that Doctor Sweets had been given a large amount of ketamine recently," the doctor said.

"Will there be any long term effects?" Cam asked.

"From what we can tell, Doctor Sweets is showing no signs of withdrawal, so I don't think there's any risk of addiction," Werner said. "However, there is the slight possibility for brain damage with repeated exposure to ketamine. But we won't know anything until he wakes up."

"And when will that be?" Hodgins asked. The doctor sighed.

"That we are not sure of either," she said. "After his third resuscitation, Doctor Sweets slipped into a coma and has showed no signs of coming out of it ever since."

"Doctor Werner….please be honest….what are his chances?" Cam asked.

"The sheer number of injuries along with their severity does not make for a good prognosis," Werner said. "But he is young, and he appears to have been healthy before all of this…I give him about a forty percent chance of making it through the night…Every day that he holds on after that greatly increases his odds for survival. However…."

"Yes?" Brennan asked.

"However, we're not as sure about his coma," Werner said. "There is a chance that he might not ever wake up…And every day that he remains in that condition increases the likelihood of that scenario taking place."

As she finished, she looked around to see that almost everyone in the room was either in tears or close to them. Wyatt motioned for her attention.

"Doctor Werner, I think that Doctor Sweets would be best served by having his family around him now," he said.

"I completely agree," the doctor replied.

"Why?" Peter said, anger seeping into his tone. "Because Lance doesn't have much time? Because you think that it'll all be over soon?"

"On the contrary," Werner said. "You should be with him so that you can support him…Remind him of why he needs to keep fighting…Let him know that you're here to take care of him."

"But…if he's in a coma, how will he know?" Brennan asked, her eyes shiny.

"The same way Agent Booth knew when you stayed with him," Wyatt assured her. "Doctor Sweets will draw a similar type of comfort from your presence."

"I'll make sure that arrangements are made so that all of you can stay with Doctor Sweets as long as you need to," Werner said, rising to her feet.

"Thank you Doctor," Cam said as she got up. The rest of them soon followed suit.

"No problem," Werner smiled. "I imagine you would all like to see him now…Just be aware that Doctor Sweets is in intensive care so he will have plenty of machines attached to him…So prepare yourself for that."

They all nodded and followed the doctor down the hallway. After a couple of minutes of walking, they arrived at Sweets' room. One of the walls was glass, so they could see inside as they approached. What they saw elicited numerous gasps and some sobs.

From the hallway they could see that Sweets had several wires emanating from some machines hooked to his body in several places including his head. The machines whirred, beeped and clicked in a steady rhythm. Tubes were in his nose and mouth which helped him breathe and which fed and re-hydrated him. There was an IV in one arm and a pulse monitor on one of his fingers. Sweets' skin no longer had tinges of blue, but it was still a pale grey with numerous bruises visible on his arms.

"He's so still," Angela breathed. "How can he be alive when he's like that?"

"I don't know, Ange," Hodgins said, shaking his head.

"Still or not, he needs us now," Cam said firmly, despite her eyes clouding with tears. "So I think we should go in there and let him know that we're here."


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note: Next chapter. I am finishing up my fanfic NaNoWriMo with this update which will put me at my goal for the month. Final word count will be posted on my profile tomorrow. :D

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. And a special thank you to everyone who supported my little project this month.

**Lessthansign3: **As I've mentioned elsewhere, I agree that Season Six Booth has been a bit disappointing of late, but again, I do think he is battling many personal problems right now and is having a very hard time handling them...So it is nice to go back to the Booth we have grown to love over the past five or six years in the world of fanfic. :) As for this story's place in the time line of the show...I imagine this all happening in the world of the fifth season, but as you've pointed out, it is somewhat AU since if this were to happen during Season Five, it would have significantly altered Sweets' role during that time. And you are definitely right in thinking that any sort of recovery Sweets can have will not happen overnight...

**Lives in the now: **I'll admit that this wasn't always an easy one to write, even if it was a satisfying one. We still have a little way to go, but you're right that the worst of the ordeal is over...Now it is time for the aftermath... Thank you for the review, and I do enjoy writing for Wyatt. :) I hope to be able to use him again in one of my fics in the future...

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review as always. :D I hope you enjoy this update too...And congrats on getting your internet back.

**Fearlee: **Well sorry this update wasn't quite as fast as the last one...but I hope you enjoy it anyway. :) And yes, I have also grown to love using Peter in my fics... I am in the early stages of planning a fic that will involve him more...but that won't surface until next year at the earliest...In the meantime, he will be showing up, here and there in my current fic projects and will continue to play a large role in this one...as will Wyatt...

**Buttercups3: **Thank you, I'm glad that you found my Booth sufficiently Boothy. :) I actually agonized over that conversation between Wyatt and Peter for a little while, and even considered dumping it at one point. But looking back at it now, I'm glad I stuck with it...And despite what has been going on during this season, I still have faith that if something like this were to happen to Sweets (or even something anywhere close to it), Booth and Team Jeffersonian would show their true colors and be right there supporting their Baby Duck...Especially Booth when you consider that Sweets is one of the few people he still hangs around during this season. And those hugs and grins at Sweets from everyone else at that scene in the bar from last week's episode makes me think that he's not far from the minds of everyone at the lab either...

**D: **As you will see in this chapter, Wyatt is not the only person who thinks "outside the box" when it comes to what is best for patients...I agree that Sweets' "family" will be crucial to his recovery...but some of them may need some support of their own...

**Bakoneko: **Again, thanks for all of your recent reviews. :D I will admit that there were a few stalls while writing this fic, but fortunately you're coming in when things are running much more quickly (as I'm hoping they will for the rest of this fic). And yes, when I started this and decided to add Peter, I knew that I wanted him to play a hand in Andrew's demise...it's sort of poetic justice by proxy for David through Peter...Team Jeffersonian has a lot of work ahead of them...

**Blazing Rubellite: **Forcing? I hope reading my fics hasn't become a chore? ;) But just so you'll know, the worst is over now...not that the aftermath will be easy by any stretch of the imagination...

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 22

Wyatt chose to stay out in the hallway for now with Werner, and the two of them watched everyone else filed into the room where Sweets was laying. As they approached the bed, they were saddened to discover that the psychologist looked even worse as they moved closer to him.

"Lance…" Peter breathed moving to stand right next to the bed. He found a chair and yanked it over to the bedside. As he sat down, he laid his hands down on Sweets' arm and shoulder.

"Lance…it's Peter…again," he said, working hard to control his emotions. "You're at the hospital now…The doctors here are going to take good care of you. So now we need you to just hold on, all right? Just hold on. Your friends are here, and…and I'm going to be staying with you for however long you need. So just rest now and get better, ok?"

Unable to say more, Peter fell silent and continued to hold onto Sweets' arm and shoulder. Cam then moved over to the other side of the bed and took his hand into hers.

"Sweets…it's Cam," she said. "I just want you to know…that we're all here for you: Booth, Brennan, Angela, Hodgins…we're all here with you now, and we're not leaving you alone. Not for one second."

The pathologist squeezed his hand and took a couple of short breaths in an almost futile attempt to stop herself from crying. But even as she was able to hold back her tears for this moment, Cam knew that she would not be able to do so for very long. She let go of Sweets' hand and backed away to the other side of the room.

Then Angela and Hodgins approached, the entomologist keeping his arm around her.

"Hey Sweets…it's me…Angela," she said, forcing a small smile. "Hodgins is here with me too. But you probably knew that he would be."

She tried to keep smiling even as tears glistened in her eyes. She shook her head and began stroking the psychologist's hair.

"Anyway, we just wanted to tell you that…we really need you to wake up," she continued. "Because…we need you here. With all of us."

"That's right," Hodgins said, patting Sweets' arm. "After all, who else is Cam going to go to when we all drive her crazy?"

"Yeah, and who else is going to make sure Hodgins and I stay in line," Angela teased.

"I mean, nobody else is going to be able to put up with all of our insanity," the entomologist said. "And….and any other shrink would have gotten a lock for their office door years ago."

Angela began to brush tears off her face as her smile finally broke, and she leaned down to kiss Sweets on the cheek.

"What we're trying to say is that…you're part of our family," she said, her voice cracking. "And…families should stay together. So please…please get better and wake up. Please Sweets."

Hodgins moved closer and continued to pat the therapist's shoulder.

"I remember how you told me once that…that I was a good guy," Hodgins said quietly. "And…and I remember being so shocked because I didn't think anyone could see something like that in me besides Angela…But you saw it. You always do."

The entomologist swallowed hard, and Angela reached over for his hand.

"I'm sure that the reason that you saw it is because you're a good guy too," Hodgins added. "A great one, really…And I'm…so grateful that I can call you friend…So I need you to wake up, Sweets because I don't want to even think about losing another friend."

Hodgins then back away with Angela and the two of them embraced tightly. After that, Brennan walked over, her uncertainty evident in her expression.

"Sweets…I'm not really sure if you can hear me given your current state," she said. "And I'm even less certain that anything I might tell you could have any impact on your condition."

The anthropologist picked up one of Sweets' hands into both of hers, closing her fingers around it tightly.

"However…if there is even a slight possibility that you can hear me…I wanted to tell you that we need you to get better," she said. "I know that I've made my thoughts clear about how I don't believe in psychology or in its questionable purposes…But the fact remains that I believe in you and in your abilities."

Brennan suddenly felt tears slip out of her eyes and felt powerless to stop them.

"A team….a family…functions best when all of its members are together, supporting each other and taking care of one another," Brennan sniffed. "So we need you to get better and wake up as soon as possible."

Brennan watched the psychologist for a moment more before carefully placing his hand back onto the bed. She started to walk away from the bed, and Booth immediately took her into his arms, letting her bury her face onto his shoulder. As he held her, Booth kept staring at Sweets' still form. He wanted to say something, but found that he couldn't even formulate the words.

'_I'm sorry, Sweets,' _he thought to himself. '_I was supposed to protect you…but I failed and I…I know that "sorry" doesn't really mean very much right now…But I…I…'_

Finding himself unable to stay for one second more, Booth let Brennan go and bolted out of the room. Brennan watched him for a moment, stunned and confused by his actions, before taking off after him.

After a minute of tense silence, Cam cleared her throat and wiped her eyes.

"I think we should take turns staying here," she said. "I'm betting that it's probably not a good idea for all of us to be here at once all the time."

"I'm not leaving," Peter said, resolute, still looking down at the bed. "Lance needs to know that he's safe now…So I am staying right here."

"We understand, Peter," Cam said gently. "But you will need to rest at some point…If not for your sake than for your cousin's because he's going to need you be ready for whatever happens when he wakes up."

"I'm sorry Doctor Saroyan," Peter said. "You're right of course, but I need to stay with him for as long as I can…I hope that makes sense."

"It does," Cam said with a sad smile. "I just hope you're planning on having some company while you stay here."

Peter finally looked up and met her smile with a weak one of his own.

"Actually…I was counting on it," he said. "And I'm sure Lance is grateful for it too."

* * *

Outside in the hallway, Wyatt and Werner continued to watch the scene inside the room closely. They were startled for a moment when Booth and Brennan left abruptly, but after they disappeared down the corridors, the two of them turned back toward the room.

"I appreciate your allowing them to do this," Wyatt said. "I know that it's not normal hospital procedure, but I'm sure that it means a great deal to all of them."

"You were the one who taught me the importance of seeing beyond standard procedures and practices," Werner smiled. "I had a feeling that they were a pretty close-knit group by the way they were in the waiting room…Besides, it's been my experience that that sort of familial bond is vital in cases like these where the patient's life is teetering so close to the edge."

"Tell me, were you being cautiously or optimistically accurate in relaying the lad's chances of recovery?" the chef inquired.

"I'm sorry to say that I was more on the optimistic end of the spectrum," the doctor said, shaking her head. "I can safely say that it's going to take a lot of medicine, care, faith and more than a little luck to pull him back from the brink…This is why I'm encouraging them to stay with him. I'm hoping that they can give him the final push we need to tip the odds in favor of him surviving."

"There's something you haven't told them, isn't there?" Wyatt asked while giving her a penetrating stare. "Something that you're concerned might tip the scales against him?"

"There never was any point in trying to hide things from you," Werner sighed. "I'm concerned about the low level of brain activity that Doctor Sweets is exhibiting right now. I fear that he will either remain in a vegetative state…or if he does awaken that there will be significant cognitive damage…Granted there's no way to know for sure until he wakes up, but….again it doesn't look good."

Wyatt bowed his head; it hurt to think about the possibility that a mind so brilliant and compassionate could be lost.

"It would be a great loss to the world if that were the case," he murmured. "But even more importantly, it would be devastating to the people in there…and to the ones who just left. Especially one of them…"

"You mean the FBI agent, don't you?" Werner said. "You're worried about him in particular?"

"Yes," Wyatt answered solemnly. "Yes I am."

* * *

Booth could hear Brennan following him from a distance at first, but he quickened his pace and made several sharp turns through the hallways. After a couple minutes of this, he knew that he had lost her. Once he knew that he was alone again, he slowed down and continued to walk down the corridors, paying little attention to where he ended up.

As he walked, he kept seeing Sweets lying in the hospital bed with only the machines showing any signs of life. The doctor's prognosis continued to replay in his mind, and the agent felt his insides clench.

'_We won't just stand by and let this bastard get to you.'_

'_Trust me, he's not going to get the chance to hurt anyone else…and that includes you.'_

'_Don't worry…everything will be fine.'_

All of the assurances Booth had given Sweets before Andrew got a hold of him felt like so many needles stabbing at his heart now. Each one of them echoed in his memories and when they did, Booth remembered all of the injuries he had seen on the psychologist as he pulled him from that vat of icy water. He could not get the sight of Sweets' broken body out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

'_I just wanted to thank you…For everything.'_

Those panicked words of gratitude were among the last ones that the agent heard from him. And it was that memory that finally made Booth's eyes water up.

'_I was supposed to protect him…He was counting on me to protect him…He trusted me, just like Gordon Gordon said.'_

Booth continued to stumble along the hall, trying desperately to maintain some control. But with every step he could feel his guilt growing, threatening to swallow him whole.

Suddenly he stopped and blinked a couple times at what he saw in front of him. While wandering aimlessly, Booth had managed to find a small room that served as a sort of chapel. Seeing no one inside, the agent walked in and walked to the front row of benches. There he sat down and bowed his head to pray.

Booth knew that many people found it odd that he held fast to his Catholic faith in light of the life he had lived. The agent had seen firsthand both in the Army and in the Bureau many people fall away from their faith as a result of dealing with so much evil in the course of their jobs. But Booth found more than a little peace in the awareness of a divine being who was watching over everyone while being ever vigilant to give help to those who needed it and justice to those who deserved it.

The agent folded his hands together in an attempt to stop them from shaking. He continued to pray fervently for Sweets' recovery, hoping that God still cared to hear his pleas.

* * *

Just outside the room, Brennan stood and watched Booth silently. After she had lost him in the hallway, she had stood still and tried to reason out the mostly likely place where he would go. Upon hearing a nurse mention this place while walking by her, Brennan knew instinctively that the agent would end up here eventually. Seeing him hunched over in obvious distress, she longed to go in there and sit with him.

But over the years, she had come to understand how important Booth's faith was to him even if she didn't share it. Brennan still could not completely comprehend how anyone could pin their hopes on the actions of a supernatural force that could never be proven scientifically. But she did understand Booth's desire to do more than just wait and see if Sweets would recover. In fact, a small part of her wished that she could find her own way to do more, even if on the surface it would probably be a meaningless gesture.

She decided to wait where she was while Booth finished his prayers. And even though she did not believe in what he was doing, she hoped that he could pray enough for the two of them.

* * *

_Lance found that he felt no pain and was relieved by that fact. But he also could not put his finger on what he was feeling, and that was beginning to disturb him. He had a sense that he was no longer in Andrew's basement, but beyond that the psychologist could not get a feel for where he was. He finally decided that the only way he was going to get any answers was by opening his eyes, even though he dreaded doing so._

_He slowly let his eyelids crack open and tried to sit up as he did so, realizing just then that he was lying down. But as he became aware of his surrounding, Lance became even more confused._

_He discovered that he was sitting on a grassy field next to a calm lake. Lance soon noticed that there seemed to be no birds, no animals and even no insects of any kind. The air was warm and strangely still and yet it all managed to feel very soothing. _

'_Where am I?' he asked himself. 'How did I get here?...And why does this all seem familiar?'_

_Lance pulled himself to his feet and only when he was standing again did it occur to him that he was more than able to stand and walk freely._

'_Wait a minute…Andrew broke my leg…didn't he? I shouldn't be able to walk.'_

_The therapist ran his hands along his body and realized that he could no longer feel any of the injuries that Jensen had inflicted on him. Curious, he placed a hand onto one of his shoulder blades and flinched when he still felt his old scars there. _

_As he surveyed the scene around him, memories slowly came to the surface and Lance finally had an idea of where he was. He turned and when he saw the spacious cabin nearby, it confirmed his suspicions._

'_This place…Mom and Dad used to take me here once in a while when I was a kid,' he thought. 'It belonged to a friend of Dad's from work….But what am I doing here?'_

_Lance continued to try to figure out what was going on. When he thought some more about his lack of injuries, the place he was at, and the odd but still comforting atmosphere, the psychologist could come to only one conclusion._

'_I'm dead…It's the only thing that makes sense,' he told himself. 'I'm dead and this is the afterlife….But…why would I end up here of all places after death? Why in the world would I end up at a vacation spot from my childhood?'_

_Lance walked over to a large, flat stone that overlooked the lake and sat down. As he sorted through his thoughts, the psychologist was surprised to find that he was suddenly hungry. Almost as soon as he had this notion, Lance could sense something near his hand, and he looked down to see a plate beside him with a pair of club sandwiches._

'_Where did these come from?' he wondered. 'They look just like the ones that…'_

"_It's good to see you, Lance… I thought that you might be hungry, so I made these for you…."_

_Lance slowly turned toward the voice to see a familiar figure leaning against the porch of the cabin. The man was tall with broad shoulders and sandy brown hair that had gone grey at the temples. At the sight of his warm encouraging smile and those rich emerald eyes, Lance felt himself begin to cry._

"_Hello, sport…I've been waiting for you here…Just like I said I would."_

"_Dad?" Lance finally choked out, tears running down his face. "Where am I?"_


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note: Next chapter. Again, sorry it's taking so long to update, but finals and then limited access to the internet has been cutting into my time for fic writing.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lives in the now: **Thanks for the review. I agree that Sweets will need his whole family around him, but in some ways that will be easier said than done.

**D: **Ok, I couldn't help but smile at your "Peter and the Wolf" reference (I loved that story as a kid). But going back to the fic, Werner is certainly the type of doctor who is more of Wyatt's type who looks to the greater good for a patient instead of just sticking to procedure. And much like how Sweets is very self-critical when he makes a mistake, I agree that Booth tends to take it to heart if he thinks that he didn't protect someone who needed his protection...especially one of his own. Throughout the run of the show, it has become clear how much Booth's faith sustains him, and thus wanted to touch on it here. And yes, you are right about this "dream" being very important to Sweets' fate...

**Fearlee: **Do you mean, do I enjoy plot twists and keeping people in suspense? Then yeah, guilty as charged...although I'd be lying if I didn't confess that a part of me gets a certain amount of glee from cliffhangers. ;) Hopefully this update will ease the pain...or maybe not. Who knows? :)

**Peanutmeg: **And as always, thanks for the review. I know I've been slack in updates recently, so I hope you enjoy this one.

**Half-Blood Ravenclaw: **Thanks for your review. :) Even though I sometimes veer a bit into a sort of AU world, I really do try to retain the feel of the show, so I'm glad that it has that feel to you. And yes, Andrew is (was) a truly disturbed person. I figure that he would be based off what we've seen from the show because only an evil person would be able to bring themselves to whip a child as young as Sweets had to have been so hard as to leave permanent scars. Unfortunately much of what is known as evil has its roots in some disturbing psychological pathology. Good luck on your college career. I'm going through that grind myself right now, and I'm finding exciting, but a challenge at times. :)

**Moon Crescent Neko: **Sorry the update didn't come sooner, but I hope you enjoy this one anyway. And no, unfortunately things do not become easier for Booth or Sweets in this chapter.

**Cobalt6233: **Well I did try to go a bit of a fluffier route in my Anxiety in the Illness fic, but I certainly see your point. Maybe a fluffy bunny one-shot will hit me during this holiday season. We'll see. :)

**Lessthansign3: **I'll admit that it wasn't the easiest chapter to write. And the club sandwiches thing was a reference to my THotF fic...they being the sandwich that David makes for him more than once in that fic. I find that I can't resist adding in little details like that in my fics...Oh and you are talking to a major angst and fluff addict here, so I can totally relate. I will try to update a little more frequently so you can find out what happens a little sooner. ;)

**Abandon-Morality: **Well as **Buttercups3 **will attest, I've never read the Harry Potter series or seen the movies. It's a case of "too many books, not enough time" there, even though I plan on getting around to it one of these days. Anyway, I couldn't really tell you how this will compare to that. But the idea of the living gaining insight, comfort and guidance from the spiritual realm is a very old theme that has found it's way into many cultures, and thus, I can't help but be inspired (partially because of my own belief systems). I suppose we'll see how similar this ends up being as we go along.

**Buttercups3: **I agreed with Booth when he said in TGotG that Brennan's "heart muscle" worked just fine. So I could see her emotions brought to the front in the face of something like this. And as I mentioned earlier, I could easily see Booth praying not just because of his faith, but because he would want to do something, anything, to try to help at this point. And yes, you know me well enough to know that I probably wouldn't cripple our baby duck that way...but of course, there's no way the Jeffersonian gang can know that for sure...

**Blazing Rubellite: **Oh no problem, I've been late updating myself these days...It is fun to convert people to Bones and specifically to Sweets isn't it? Good luck with that. :) And yeah, I will and I won't clear things up as far as Sweets' condition in this chapter...

**RHMichaud: **Thank you for the review. I'm glad that you've enjoyed it thus far. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to update sooner, but I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 23

Peter continued his silent vigil with Sweets. He would sometimes look around the room, distracted and restless. But his gaze always returned to the therapist. He sometimes held Sweets' hand or squeezed his shoulder, hoping that his cousin would find some comfort in his reassurance of his presence. But every time Sweets showed no response to his actions, Peter had to work even harder to hold in the feelings that were raging in his heart.

Angela had asked to spend some time with Sweets first and was now sitting in chair on the other side of the psychologist's bed. Hodgins had not wanted to leave her or Sweets and had brought in another chair so he could sit next to Angela. They had all sat in quietly for a long time with the only sounds being the machines monitoring Sweets and the nurses coming in to check his vitals regularly. A few hours later, Angela noticed that she was the only one who was still awake in the room.

The artist moved her chair a little closer to the bed and took Sweets' hand into hers again. She sniffled at how cold it was and closed her fingers around Sweets' tightly, determined to warm his hand up.

"Hey sweetie, it's me again," she murmured. "I know you've been through a lot and that we should be letting you rest. But I…I just wanted to say that I think you're really brave."

Angela brushed a couple tears from her eyes and then clasped the therapist's hand again.

"All the time we've known you, and you've always been there for us. Without fail," she continued. "Even though there were probably plenty of times when you could have used our support, you still took care of us…And I wanted to say that I'm sorry that we weren't always there for you as much as we should have been."

Angela stopped and sniffed hard. She wished that she could stop crying, but she also knew that she did not want to stop feeling this potential loss so deeply. Things like this should hurt, she told herself. It was a sign of love and of life, and she treasured that.

"I guess what I'm trying to say to you is that if anyone is strong enough to make it through this, it's you," the artist said. "And I know that it's selfish of us to ask this, but, please... Please use that strength now. Because, honestly, I don't know how we're going to get through this if you're not here."

Angela was happy to discover that Sweets' hand was starting to warm up and felt much more lifelike to her now. She was also grateful that she was finally able to detect the movement of Sweets' chest as he breathed.

They were the only assurances that Angela had that he was still alive, and she was wanted to cling to them as best she could.

* * *

'_I think you're really brave…Please use that strength now.'_

_Lance could have sworn that he had heard Angela's voice, but he immediately shook it off. He was sure that it was just another trick of the mind…much like all of the other things he was experiencing right now._

_After finished the last of his two sandwiches, Lance turned to stare at the lake in front of him. By the point he had managed to stop crying, having overcome his initial shock at seeing his father again, and was becoming increasingly reflective as he watched the scenery around him. _

_David had moved to sit next to him on the rock and after the therapist had finished eating he sat the plate onto the ground. _

"_Sport, about your question…" David started._

"_It's ok. You don't have to say anything," Lance said. "I know that I'm not dead."_

"_How did you arrive at that?" his father asked._

"_The sandwiches," Lance responded. "If I was dead, I wouldn't be hungry, would I? The fact is, I haven't had any food for the past few days, and my body is letting me know it. That's all."_

"_I see," David nodded. "Well that didn't stop you from eating, now did it?" _

_Lance didn't respond, and his father shook his head._

"_So all this…Me, you…us being at the cabin," David said. "All this is…."_

"_Just my mind going through some sort of psychotic break," Lance answered dully. "Or maybe I'm dying right now and this is just a last rush of brain signals before death…Or maybe I'm in a coma and this is all a dream, much like the one Agent…."_

_The psychologist stopped himself from continuing his sentence. He still could not say Booth's name aloud while wrapped up in so much guilt over causing his death._

"_And I suppose you have a theory as to why I'm here," David added._

"_Because…because you're the person I always think of when things are at their darkest point in my life," Lance gulped, not daring to look his father in the eye again. "It makes sense that you'd be here now while Andrew is…."_

_The therapist let his voice trail off. He didn't want to think about what Andrew was doing to him any more than he had to. David listened carefully through all this and nodded his head._

"_Those are all very reasonable and well-thought out ideas," he said. "But I'm afraid that you're mistaken, sport."_

"_What?"_

"_Lance…I hesitated to answer your question for a moment there because I wanted you to have a chance to calm down and relax," David continued. "Now, as far as where you are…think of this as a 'waiting area' of sorts."_

"_A waiting area?" Lance asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "Waiting for what?"_

"_That is largely up to you," his father answered. "You're in a precarious place right now, sport. You're straddling the line between life and death, and you will need to decide which way you want to go. I'm here to guide you and keep you company through all this."_

_The psychologist looked down and the ground and noticed that is feet were bare. He began to shuffle them along the grass, letting the cool tickle of soft emerald blades center him._

"_I don't know if I believe in any sort of afterlife," Lance mumbled. David's eyes grew sad for a moment, but then he reached over and patted Lance on the shoulder._

"_I suppose I can understand that," David mused. "The life you've lived…you've had to endure so much evil and ugliness, and you've witnessed and been subjected to so many senseless acts of cruelty. I can't really blame you for having a hard time believing in the idea of any kind of divine spirit. And even if you did, it must be difficult to see any benevolence there in the face of all the blackness."_

_David moved to sit closer to Lance and put his arm around his son's shoulders._

"_But listen, sport, all the doubts that you have about people, the world and everything else…despite all of that, you know that you can believe in me and the things that I tell you, right?" David asked._

"_Yes," Lance said, a lump forming in his throat._

"_And you remember, don't you, that your mother and I promised you that we would always be with you, no matter what?" his father inquired._

"_Yes."_

"_Do you still believe that?"David said. _

"_Yes," Lance answered, without hesitation._

"_Then let me help you," David said. He then held out his arms toward Lance, but the therapist did not let his father embrace him. "What's wrong?"_

"_Nothing," Lance said, still trying to avoid looking at David. "I just don't know if you're…if you're…you know…."_

"_If I'm real or not," David finished. Lance hung his head, ashamed of how he was rejecting his father in even the slightest way._

"_Well even if I'm not really here, is there any harm in giving your father a hug?" David asked him. "If it is as you say and I'm just a figment of your imagination, it won't make a bit of difference. But…if I really am here, you will know it soon enough."_

_Lance finally looked over at him; just like all the times he had come to David for guidance when he was growing up, his father's reasoning was sound and made perfect sense to him. Seeing David sitting next to him made something stir in his heart, so Lance leaned over and allowed his father to envelop him in his arms._

_As he was being held, the therapist experienced a sudden rush of old feelings and memories, some of which had not been present for a long time. This embrace reminded Lance of all the times David had held him in his life, in times of happiness and in the depths of his despair. The feelings of warmth, security, comfort and love were beginning to overwhelm him, and he responded by clinging to David._

_One thought did manage to make it to the forefront of his mind: whatever this all was, Lance was now certain that it was not a dream or hallucination. He was sure beyond all doubt that his father was actually here and would be taking care of him. And it was this realization that made the psychologist become aware again of how much he had missed having his father in his life._

"_Dad," Lance said in a wobbly voice, unable to say more. David tightened his hold and rubbed his son's back._

"_It's all right, sport," David soothed. "Go ahead and let it out. I've got you."_

_With those words, the dam broke inside of Lance, and he sobbed while his father silently held him. He began to cry out every hurt, every moment of terror and fear, and every sorrow that he had experienced over the last few days.

* * *

_

Even though it was increasingly difficult to concentrate on the road, Booth continued to find ways to manage keep his mind focused on whatever task there was at hand.

He had just finished with going back to Andrew's hideout so he could check on the progress of the investigation there and so he could speak to the FBI techs, who were still processing the scene. There wasn't too much for him to learn there; they were pretty much finished gathering the evidence needed for what was sure to be an open and shut case. Everything they had found confirmed the idea that Jensen was response for all of the murders, including the body that had been found on the grounds. The mangled corpse had been sent back to the Jeffersonian for identification, but Booth saw it as a mere formality. He was sure that the body would turn out to be the missing meth chemist, Dan Barlow.

While walking around the rooms, Booth had had to bite back the bile rising in his throat as he remembered what he had seen here and when he starting thinking about what had probably happened here. But he found that he was able to do it so that all the other agents and techs could see from him was a stony, business-like demeanor and nothing more.

After he was finished there, Booth began to drive back to the Hoover Building of the Bureau. He knew that there were many reports to finish, forms to fill out, and people he would need to answer to since he was not only the lead agent in this case, but had also shot and killed the only real suspect.

And now seemed like the perfect time to focus on what needed to be done at work.

He soon arrived at the FBI headquarters, and as he walked toward his office, Booth felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He yanked it out and instead of answering it immediately, he checked the caller ID.

It was Cam…again.

Booth shoved the phone back into his pocket and resumed walking. He knew that she wasn't calling him for anything related to the case since it was no longer an urgent matter and because there was no possible way that she could already have new insights for him, including the identification of the corpse from Jensen's place.

The agent was certain that Cam was calling for the same reason that she had called for the past three times: to ask him when he was going to take some time to sit with Sweets.

Booth made his way to his office and once there he closed his door and sighed as he sat down at his desk.

All of them had been relieved beyond words when Sweets had managed to make it through the night without any incident. Now they were all anxiously waiting to see when or if Sweets would wake up. Cam had managed to set up a schedule of visitation so that they all could get some time to rest and work along with spend time with the psychologist.

Booth had not participated in it yet. After he had finished praying in the hospital's chapel, the agent had gone home for a few restless hours of sleep. The next morning, he got up, and proceeded to shower, shave and get into a suit so he could resume his work at the Bureau. When he didn't show up at Sweets' room again, Cam called him up to let him know that the therapist was still holding on and to ask him when he would be available to visit. He cut her off by telling her that he had too much to do with finishing up Jensen's case and that he didn't have time.

"That's not true and you know it, Seeley," the pathologist had protested. "You need to be here. Sweets needs you here."

"Don't call me, Seeley, Camille," Booth had retorted icily. "Unlike you squints, I don't have a bunch of assistants around to pick up any slack around here. Jensen was involved in multiple murders, and I shot him. There's a lot that needs to be taken care of as a result. It's not like I can drop everything here and let it all sort itself out."

Cam had started to argue, but Booth hung up and would not answer her subsequent calls. She tried calling him again the next day, but the results were the same.

While typing up the first of a series of reports on his computer, Booth felt his hands begin to tremble again. He stopped to take a couple of deep breaths and worked to push his emotions back down.

A large part of him knew that what he was doing was wrong, and that part of him longed to go visit Sweets this instant. But the moment that thought entered his head, the memories of the psychologist's injuries along the accompanying guilt and sorrow flooded him. Even though Cam could be right in saying that Sweets needed him now, that knowledge was not enough to break through those thoughts and feelings. Nor could it stop the small, but persistent part of him that kept reminding him of why he didn't want to face Sweets in that condition.

'_My place is here…doing my job,'_ he told himself. '_If I had been doing my job before, Sweets wouldn't be in that hospital...He doesn't need me now. He needed me before Jensen got his hands on him. But I failed. I wasn't able to protect him or save him…All I was able to accomplish was making sure that Jensen would never bother him again. And what good will that be if Sweets doesn't….?'_

Booth ground his jaw and went back to work. At least here he could be useful. Here he could accomplish something, and his efforts would have value to someone. It wasn't like it would be if he went to the hospital.

All he could do there is sit and face the grim reminders of how much he had failed as an agent and as a friend. And then he would have to face what he was probably going to lose as a result.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: Well a belated Happy New Year to all my readers. The holidays have made my ability to access the internet intermittent at times. But I finally was able to hash out a new chapter. Sorry for the wait.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you, as always, to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. Thanks for sticking with this. :D

**Lives in the now: **I'd say they both need each other right now. And I agree that guilt along with doubt can plant some ugly seeds in a person's mind. Thank you for the review as always.

**Super Ario: **I can relate to not getting to a computer much. The holidays kept me busy and then there was the winding down from them...Anyway, unfortunately, we've seen before where Booth has a tendency to give himself unnecessary burdens, despite their cost to him. And I agree that his presence will be important. It's mainly a matter of what it will take to reach this conclusion himself.

**Blazing Rubellite: **That is the gist of it yes. We can just hope that Booth figures this out too before something major happens...

**Fearlee: **Again, that sums it up. And let me apologize ahead of time for the ending to this chapter. ;)

**D: **Guilt and that tendency for self-blame does seem to be a thread that these two have in common. Unfortunately neither of them are in a position right now to steer the other one away from that path. And I agree that it's going to take more than Sweets waking up for Booth to recover, but I venture that the same could be said for Sweets finding out that Booth is alive.

**Purplehonor: **Thank you for the review. I'm glad that you enjoy my OCs. I will admit that when I first started writing here, I was nervous about introducing these OCs to the Bones universe, but now I love imaging them there, and I'm happy that others do too. Sorry I wasn't able to update sooner, but I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

**Buttercups3: **Well I'd like to think that heaven would be very much like what we would make of it and beyond. ;) Anyway, glad you enjoyed the Angela scene there. I also miss her moments of caring frankness that have been lacking of late. I picture more of that in this story's future.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. Sorry I wasn't able to update sooner, but I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway.

**Flashtabulor: **Well fortunately I was able to get another chapter ready not long after your review. :) I hope you enjoy it.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 24

The next couple of days dragged on with little change. Everyone was relieved and grateful that Sweets continued to hold on and make daily marginal progress toward recovering, but he still showed no sign of waking up.

The vigil at his cousin's bedside was slowly taking its toll on Peter, but he continued to silently persevere. The others had managed to create a routine of stopping by, one at a time, to spend a few hours with Sweets. Everyone except Booth.

Claiming that he had a mountain of paperwork and official reviews to sort through, the agent had completely sequestered himself away at work, only leaving to eat and sleep at his apartment on occasion. He rarely answered his cell phone, and he never stopped by the Medico-Legal lab or the hospital.

Cam tried stopping by the Hoover Building to talk to Booth about it, but after she gave him the latest update on the psychologist's condition, the pathologist found herself stonewalled.

"Booth, we need your support right now," Cam said gently. "Because you're not the only one having a hard time with this. More importantly, Sweets needs you there too."

"Look, I'm glad that he's getting better. I really am," the agent sighed. "But I've told you more than once; I've got too much to…."

"Seeley, I know you don't like to discuss feelings and relationships very much, but we all know why Sweets needs you in particular to be there," Cam interrupted.

Booth flinched and squirmed in his seat a little while making sure to avoid her gaze. Cam moved over to stand beside him.

"Please stop avoiding him," she said. "I know that it might be uncomfortable for you to visit him, but you need to do it. Besides, Sweets did not turn his back on you…that time after your coma…when you…."

"That's enough Camille," Booth hissed, rising to his feet to face her. The two of them locked eyes for a moment, and Cam was saddened to see all of the sorrow that was looking back at her behind the anger. Then Booth closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them.

"Cam, I'm asking you…as a friend…to let this go," he said in a carefully controlled voice. The pathologist shook her head and backed away toward the door.

"I may be leaving now, but you should know that I can't let this one go, Booth," she said. "There is still a good chance that Sweets could die, and I know that you will never forgive yourself if you don't take the time to at least say goodbye."

Cam left the room, and Booth sank back down into his chair. He stared at the papers spread all over his desk for a few minutes before putting his head in his hands.

Booth knew that Cam was right, that he would feel guilty if Sweets died, and he didn't say anything to him first. But considering how he felt these days, he couldn't see how one more regret could make him feel any worse.

* * *

After leaving the Bureau, Cam arrived back at the hospital and relieved Hodgins. He informed her that things were pretty much the same: very slight improvement, but no movement from his unconscious state. Peter's chair was empty, and Hodgins let Cam know that he had left to drop off his things at a hotel and to clean up and change.

"He should be back any time," the entomologist said as he left the room. "He's pretty serious about watching over Sweets."

"All right," Cam nodded as she settled into the chair Hodgins had been occupying.

"Cam."

The pathologist turned to see a somber expression on his face which she was sure was mirrored on her own features.

"We shouldn't give up," he said. "It's like Ange keeps saying: if anyone can pull through this, it's Sweets. We just have to support him is all."

"I know," Cam said, trying to smile. "Now…you should go get some rest. I'm sure Angela needs you right now anyway."

Hodgins nodded and walked out, leaving Cam alone with the therapist. She moved her chair closer to the bed and watched him for a while. The pathologist had brought a small satchel with some magazines and a chick lit book to help her pass the time. But she soon realized that she wanted some time alone in her own thoughts, so she sat the bag aside and watched Sweets instead.

She reached over and brushed some of the curls from the psychologist's forehead and then began to run her fingers along his brow. Cam couldn't help but smile a little at how maternal she probably looked right now.

'_As much as we pick on him for his age, Doctor Sweets is grown man,' _she thought to herself. '_We rely on him to give us advice as an equal. So why is it so easy to feel so…paternal about him?'_

Cam placed his hand in hers and sniffed. She figured that the reason that people on her team felt the need to watch over him that way went beyond his actual age or his even more youthful appearance. With Sweets there was always this sense of …innocence. Or more accurately, a lack of cynicism in relation to the world. The pathologist was aware that Sweets was probably not truly innocent due to his difficult past, but she noted that a part of him seemed to remain unspoiled in the face of it. It showed in his enthusiasm for his work, his unflagging interest in other people, and the way he approached everything with a sense of wonder. Whether it was watching re-enactments of crimes in the lab, asking to touch a human brain, or listening with interest even when Hodgins lapsed into technical jargon, the psychologist always was eager to learn and explore things outside his field.

She gripped Sweets' hand even tighter and felt her eyes growing wet again as she watched him.

"Doctor Sweets, you brought so much more to our group than profiling skills and mediation for workplace squabbles," she said. "You gave us warm, caring insights into ourselves. Again and again, you've offered us your time, your concern, and your determination to help us have fulfilled lives in and out of the workplace, and you asked for so little in return. And I know that we've often taken you for granted or picked on your for your age, and if that made you feel for one moment like you weren't appreciated or wanted, then I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for that."

Cam began to stroke Sweets' hair again with her other hand, trying desperately to hold back her tears and not always succeeding.

"Please come back to us," she sniffled. "All of us…we need you. Even if we can't always say it out loud."

The pathologist leaned back in her chair and brushed the tears from her face while still holding onto the therapist's hand. She knew that Peter would be back any moment, and he had enough on his mind without worrying about having to console her in any way.

At least that seemed like a good reason to stop herself from crying.

* * *

'_Please come back to us…we need you….'_

_Lance listened to Cam's gentle voice in his mind, but soon chose to ignore it since he still did not know what to make of it. Truthfully, he was reluctant to let anything disrupt the way he was feeling right now. _

_He had wept for what felt like endless hours in his father's arms, and now he finally felt some semblance of peace. David had silently supported him the entire time, and Lance could not get over how comforting his presence was. After he was finished weeping, David had let him go, and the two of them quietly stared out at the lake. His father waited patiently for Lance to pull his thought together before speaking to him again._

"_Lance, I'm sorry," David said. The therapist turned toward him._

"_Sorry? Why are you sorry, Dad?" he asked._

"_I'm sorry that Andrew was able to get to you again," David said, still watching the ripples that moved along the surface of the water. "It wasn't supposed to be this way. I tried to make sure that he would never be able to hurt you again."_

"_Dad, it wasn't your fault," Lance insisted. "You did everything you could for me. I couldn't have asked for a more devoted father than you." David shook his head._

"_Seeing you there…in the hands of that monster…The only other time I felt that much pain was when I lost your mother," he said. _

"_You were there?" Lance asked. "That whole time?" His father finally looked over at him._

"_Every moment, sport," David said somberly. "There was no way I was going to leave you alone." Lance looked like he would cry again, but instead swallowed hard. _

"_Thank you," he mumbled, looking down at the ground. They sat that way for a while until the psychologist looked up again. _

"_Dad, how long am I going to be here?" he asked. _

"_As long as you need to be," David replied. Lance frowned, and his father patted his shoulder. _

"_Look Lance, there's no other way I can answer that," he said. "That monster hurt you badly, so it's hard to say how and when you'll recover. Plus, I can't look inside your mind and tell you when you'll finish up whatever it is you need to do here since it's entirely on your shoulders. Only you can solve the question of what you need and make decisions from there."_

"_What if…what if I don't want to leave?" Lance murmured. _

"_Sport?"_

"_What if I want to stay here?" the psychologist said as he faced David. "What if I don't want to go back to my life?" David placed a hand on each of Lance's shoulders._

"_That is entirely up to you," David responded. "Whatever you decide, I will support you and stay with you. But please think carefully before deciding. Your choice will not just affect you. It will affect everyone around you."_

_Lance abruptly turned away and went back to staring at the water._

"_Leave me alone," the psychologist snarled._

"_Lance…I…."_

"_No!" Lance said, refusing to look at David. "I'm tired of worrying about other people and their hurts and their problems. I want to have some kind of peace for myself for a change. Or is that too much to ask for?"_

"_Don't take that tone with me. I'm your father," David replied, his voice stern._

"_Sorry," Lance said, hanging his head._

"_It's all right," his father sighed. "And I'm sorry too. I'm sorry if I made you think that your happiness and well-being don't matter. They do. It's just that this kind of decision is very…final. There will be no chance to back out of it or to fix things after the fact. I just want you to be happy with no regrets no matter what you do."_

_Lance kept his head down; he felt bad about snapping at David, even as the anger continued to churn inside of him._

"_I'm so confused," the psychologist said timidly. _

"_That's to be expected in this situation," David nodded. "Give yourself time to sort your feelings out."_

"_And I…feel…so…strange," Lance said, turning back toward David. The therapist suddenly felt light-headed and found it difficult to take a full breath. He started to pitch forward, but David caught him before he could fall to the ground._

"_Dad…what is…happening?" Lance gasped out, fear seeping into his voice. His father wrapped his arms around him and held him close._

"_It's all right sport," David soothed. "Just hold onto me. Hold tight."

* * *

_

Wyatt stepped toward Booth's office with a light shuffle that most would not expect of a man of his stature. He saw that the agent inside was deeply agitated even if he was hiding it well under a veneer of concentration and cold professionalism. For the most part. But Wyatt's trained and intuitive eye spotted the slight tremor in Booth's fingers as they moved clumsily across computer keys, and the jaw that was clenched tight as he worked. The chef knew that he would have to be careful in this conversation with him.

"Still working on the Jensen case, I see?" Wyatt said as he entered the office. Booth jerked a little bit, but almost instantly regained his composure.

"Gordon, Gordon I'm busy right now," the agent said. "So could you please…?"

"I'm here for the same reason you are, I assure you," Wyatt replied. "I've been looking over the case files and Doctor Sweets' notes. You do know that in my former career I was a forensic psychiatrist?"

"How did you get the files?" Booth asked, finally looking away from his computer screen.

"The lovely Special Agent Perotta asked for my opinion on some things," the chef said, settling into a chair across from Booth. "Nothing official, mind you. Just some insights to help her tie up some loose ends, as it were."

"Like what?" Wyatt reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small evidence bag. He then laid it in front of Booth, and the agent saw that it contained the ruined "Cocky" belt buckle that had been found on the corpse at Jensen's hideout.

"She was hoping that I could explain this to her," Wyatt said.

"And what did you tell her?" Booth asked cagily.

"Nothing yet," Wyatt said. "I thought that I could go over that with you, since you are the lead agent in all this. I wanted a chance to learn your perspective."

Booth stared at the burned lump of metal on his desk, but said nothing. Wyatt folded his hands in his lap and decided to try a different approach.

"Of course, my initial thoughts were that it probably had something to do with the files and photographs your people found at Jensen's lair. Information and pictures of the Jeffersonian staff who you and Doctor Sweets work with," he continued. "Especially after Doctor Werner mentioned that Doctor Sweets had been injected with ketamine. Nasty stuff. Did you know that one of the side effects is hallucinations?"

Wyatt could see that his words were having an effect on the agent, even if the reactions were subtle. But Booth was still choosing to not take the bait.

'_Time to be more direct,'_ the chef thought to himself.

"Jensen was by no means any sort of genius," Wyatt added. "But he was skilled at finding the vulnerable places in his victims and exploiting them. I dare say, he probably had become an expert at finding and abusing the ones in his own son. Would you not agree?"

Booth gave him an intense glare, and Wyatt met it, working hard to maintain a neutral expression in his face. Eventually, the agent sighed and lowered his head.

"Jensen…he made Sweets think that the body was me," he mumbled. "He took Burnet's wallet and badge, put some pictures of me and Parker in it, put that belt buckle on Barlow's body, and burned it. All so Sweets would think that Jensen had killed me."

"A very plausible assessment of the facts," Wyatt nodded.

"The pictures of the others?" Booth questioned.

"An ongoing theme in Doctor Sweets' notes about Jensen was isolation," the chef noted. "One of the best ways to break a man's spirit is to make him think that he is alone and that no one cares about him. No doubt Jensen saw it that way, and he worked to torture Doctor Sweets in a similar manner. Along with the physical methods, of course."

Booth ground his jaw and looked away. Wyatt leaned close, wary of the agent's demeanor.

"I believe that it will be imperative to Doctor Sweets' recovery to counteract the ideas that Jensen might have planted in his mind with the continued reassurance that his biological father was wrong," he said. "He is most certainly not alone, but he will need reminders of that."

"Did Cam send you?" Booth asked, narrowing his eyes.

"No," Wyatt responded instantly. "I simply have a vested interest in seeing Doctor Sweets recover from his horrific experience. I consider him more than a former colleague. I also think of him fondly as a friend."

"There's nothing I can do now," Booth said, shaking his head.

"Now?" Wyatt said, raising his eyebrows. "You mean as opposed to before when you could have done something? Maybe even prevented all this?"

Booth slumped in his chair, his eyes darkening to a potent combination of rage and grief. Wyatt backed away from the desk and stood up to leave.

"So you feel that the best solution is to make yourself useful here, is it?" the chef asked as he backed up toward the door. "I suppose that is a noble thing in itself. But if I may pose a question to you: are you trying to alleviate Doctor Sweets' suffering or your own? And if neither option is the case, perhaps you should ask yourself if Doctor Sweets deserves to share in your self-imposed punishment."

The agent looked over in his direction with a venomous glare, but Wyatt had already made his way out the door.

* * *

As Wyatt walked down toward the elevator, he continued to worry about Booth's state of mind; however, he did smile when he saw Brennan walking his way.

"Doctor Brennan," he said cordially.

"Chef Wyatt," she nodded as she stopped to talk to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just assisting Agent Perotta on a few details," he replied. "Analyzing behaviors, that sort of thing."

"Did you talk to Booth?" Brennan asked.

"Is that why you're here?" Wyatt responded.

"I…Booth hasn't been by the hospital recently, and I wanted to inform him of Doctor Sweets' condition," she said. "I also wanted to ask him about some things."

"Like why he hasn't visited young Doctor Sweets for example," the chef inquired. Brennan opened her mouth but then closed it without speaking. While some might have taken the anthropologist's hesitation for annoyance or uncertainty, Wyatt could see it for what it was: a way to give herself a moment to consider her response.

"Over the years that I've worked with Booth, I've learned that he puts a high priority on relationships of all sorts," Brennan said. "Especially ones involving family and friends. So I don't understand why he would choose to not visit Sweets right now. After all, if anyone believes in the idea that their mere presence can have a medically beneficial effect, I thought that it would be him."

"Sometimes darker feelings can override one's naturally good impulses," Wyatt replied. "Regret, guilt…."

"Guilt? Why should Booth feel guilty?" she asked. "He did the best he could. Logically, he has nothing to feel guilty about."

"Ah, but logic is not always enough to overcome feelings, is it?" the chef countered.

"It should be," the anthropologist frowned. "But you are correct."

Wyatt pushed the button to go down in the elevator while Brennan walked closer to him.

"I know that I can present the rational argument, but I'm afraid that it's not enough," Brennan said. "Could you maybe talk to him? Perhaps your reasoning could…"

"I'm sorry Doctor Brennan," Wyatt sighed. "I'm afraid that I probably will not be able to provide much in the way of assistance here."

"Why not?" she asked. "You've helped him before. Why don't you want to now?"

"It's not a question of want," the chef answered. "I'm sorry to say that there is only one therapist that Agent Booth really trusts, and I'm not that person. Not for something like this. Only that therapist will be able to help him through this."

Brennan looked like she would say more when suddenly her phone rang. She immediately answered it and grew silent. Wyatt watched her with concern as her expression became grim.

"What has happened?" he asked as she hung up her phone.

"I need to get back to the hospital," Brennan said, getting back onto the elevator as the doors opened up. "Doctor Saroyan says that Doctor Sweets has stopped breathing."


	25. Chapter 25

Author's Note: Sorry, I know it's been a long time since I've updated. This new semester has been difficult thus far and I'm still trying to adjust. I'm hoping that it will settle down for me soon.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is greatly appreciated. :)

**Not an Infant: **Nah, I think many of my other readers have entertained such fantasies. :) But he is good and gone, in the physical sense at least...

**Fearlee: **It's the kind of devotion I picture in David. He had promised Sweets many times that he would always be there for him, and I imagine that he wouldn't let a little thing like death keep him from his promise. :)

**Lives in the now: **And it continues onward. ;) I do find Wyatt an amazing character, and hope that I'm doing him justice. Thanks for the New Years well-wishings.

**Peanutmeg: **Sorry I wasn't able to get to this sooner. College work and all. But I hope it was worth the wait. I picture not only Sweets' recovery to be a slow process that can't be rushed as you will soon see...

**D: **I actually agree with you there about Wyatt. He's a great character to pull out once in a while when something needs a significant push in Booth or Brennan's life or when Sweets needs a more in-depth scrutiny since he's a master at avoiding any mention of himself in his dealings with them. But you're right that he probably wouldn't be able to make the real progress that Sweets can with Booth just because he is so self-aware and doesn't have the bonding points Booth and Sweets have with each other. But this certainly qualifies as one of those situations when there needs to be that kind of outside guidance that Wyatt can provide...a fact driven home in this chapter.

**Buttercups3: **Thank you. :D I knew that I was going to have Sweets in this state at some point, but I figured that things would be completely different for him than Booth's experiences, so I didn't want to repeat that. Plus, as I mentioned to** Peanutmeg**, I figured that his parents wouldn't be too far away in a situation like this. And yes, I think everyone's friendship and warmth will not go unnoticed by Sweets...

**MrG88: **Thank you for the review. I'm glad you've enjoyed my work thus far and hope you will continue to enjoy this one. I have to admit that I'm still somewhat surprised at the response this fic has gotten, but I'm happy that people are liking it. Enjoy the update.

**DrZ'sGirl: **No don't worry. Sometimes Real Life imposes and makes it hard for me to update, or once in a while I get stuck, but I always go back to my ongoing projects. So yes, there will be more. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

**Fear Herself: **No problem. I've been so busy, it's hard for me to keep up with updates anyway. A situation I hope will be correcting itself soon. I'm glad that you enjoyed me pulling in David into this fic, and Wyatt continues to be a joy to write for. Sorry about the cliffhangers, but you know me...that probably won't be the last one you see from me in this fic. ;)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 25

Wyatt joined Brennan on her trip back to the hospital, and the two of them rushed toward Sweets' room in the ICU. When they arrived they found Cam, Angela, Hodgins, and Peter standing close together. The room where the psychologist was lying was obscured by closed curtains.

"How is he?" Brennan asked as she joined them.

"We don't know anything yet," Hodgins answered. "They've been in there for thirty minutes at least. But still no word."

"Doctor Werner did say she'd let us know as soon as she could how he was," Angela added. "But for now we'll have to wait."

"What happened?" Brennan asked.

"I was sitting with him when I noticed that his breathing seemed to be getting more labored and erratic," Cam answered. "When Peter came back to the room, I told him to get a nurse."

"By the time I got back there with someone, he'd gotten worse," Peter said. "Some of the monitors started going off, and the nurse called for assistance. I…I think Lance flat-lined at one point."

Angela sniffed and leaned against Hodgins, who put his arm around her. He did his best to remain composed for the artist's sake, but found that he could only do that if he stayed as silent and still as possible. He led Angela to sit down in a nearby chair, and soon the others were joining them. After only a couple of minutes of sitting, Brennan got up and walked down the hall, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. She returned a short while later and sat down next to Angela.

"I called Booth," she said, bowing her head. "He said he'll be here in a few minutes."

"Thank God," Cam muttered. The rest of them continued to sit quietly. Soon Booth showed up and immediately went over to Brennan.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Is he…?"

"We're still waiting on the doctors," she said as he sat down beside her.

Booth nodded and turned his gaze to the floor, making sure to ignore the looks he got from the others.

Another hour passed before Werner emerged from Sweets' room with a solemn look on her face. Other emergency staff filed out of the room, some of them pulling carts with machines on them. Everyone rose to their feet and walked over to her.

"Doctor…is he…?" Peter asked.

"He's stable now," Werner said quietly. "Fluid was starting to build again in his lungs, but we've drained them, and he's doing better. We're putting him on a more aggressive antibiotic treatment since he's stronger now than when he was first brought in. It should clear up his pleural infection."

"So…he's getting better?" Booth asked hesitantly. Werner paused, considering her words carefully before speaking.

"Physically, Doctor Sweets is improving, despite today's setback," she said. "Most of his minor injuries, like the bruises and cuts are healing well. And the bones we had to set in his ribs and leg seem to be knitting correctly. However…"

"What is it?" Peter demanded.

"I'm afraid that his coma is not abating in the least," Werner replied. "I've consulted with a couple of the neurologists here on staff, and they do not hold out much hope for his recovery. In fact, they are convinced that even if he does wake up, there will probably be irreversible brain damage."

"You've told us all this," Peter said, brusquely. "Why mention it again?"

"I know that this will be difficult to contemplate," Werner continued. "But you all need to consider the possibility that Doctor Sweets will not recover and thus, his final wishes should be considered."

"Final wishes?" Peter echoed, staggering back a step. "You mean…?"

"Doctor Sweets does have a living will, and it mentions an advocate just in case of a situation like this where he cannot make decisions for himself," the doctor said. "We are not at that stage yet, but I think it's important to share this information with you so you can prepare yourselves for any eventualities."

"You mean like figuring out how long we should let the machines help Lance stay alive?" Peter asked, narrowing his eyes. Werner took a deep breath before looking back over the people huddled in front of her.

"Yes," she said. "And then there are concerns about thing like organ donation…."

"Well I'm his family, and I can tell you that the answer is no," Peter spat. "Lance will wake up. I'm sure of it."

"Peter…I know that you care about Sweets…we all do," Cam said. "But you have to agree that he wouldn't want to…."

"He wouldn't want us to give up on him," the soldier insisted. "Lance has beaten the odds so many times in his life. He should be given the chance to do so again."

"I'm afraid that decision is solely up to the advocate who Doctor Sweets mentioned in his will," Werner interrupted.

"And that is?" Booth asked.

"Doctor Wyatt," Werner nodded toward the chef standing at the back of them. Everyone turned to face Wyatt as he sighed deeply.

"Doctor Sweets thought that it would be best if I handled this kind of situation," he said. "It's not a role that I take lightly, I assure you. I will consider every decision carefully before making any sort of action."

"Please…you can't give up on Lance," Peter pleaded as he strode over to him. "Despite everything that's happened to him, he's grateful for the life he has. The life that Uncle David and Aunt Carolyn gave him."

"Peter, do you think that Sweets would really want to live this way?" Cam asked. "In a vegetative state? Unable to think or even breathe on his own?"

"Doctor Saroyan, I'm sorry, but you don't know how…." Peter started.

"May I say something?"

Everyone stopped and turned toward Brennan, who had spoken up.

"I just wanted to say…that Doctor Werner is correct," she said, shakily. "I've talked to the doctors too. Statistically, Doctor Sweets' chances are not good. It's correct and completely rational to begin considerations for things like quality of life or organ donation since actions like these could save other lives."

The anthropologist swallowed hard while her eyes glistened.

"And yet…I find it hard to only look at the rational argument here," she said. "I know how flawed that is, and how selfish this could be, but I'm hoping that you'll decide to give Sweets the best opportunity to recover. No matter how long it takes. He does treasure life. It's something that I understand completely. And I think we should treasure his life as much as possible."

"Sweetie," Angela sniffled, moving closer to her.

"May I sit with Doctor Sweets now, Doctor Werner?" Brennan asked, edging closer to the room.

"Of course you can," Werner said with a sad smile. "We're done in there. All of you can go back to whatever visitation schedule you have set up with him."

Brennan nodded and slowly walked into Sweets' room, and Werner walked off down one of the hospital corridors.

"I need to get back to the office," Booth mumbled, turning to leave. "Call me if anything changes."

"Seeley, since you're here anyway, why don't you go in and visit him?" the pathologist asked.

"No…I mean…well," Booth muttered, looking away from her. "Bones is with him now. She'd probably rather be left alone. And have things that I need to…."

"Coward."

Booth looked up to see Peter trembling slightly with anger. The soldier walked over to him, and Booth immediately felt rage begin to stir.

"Excuse me, but did you just call me a coward?" the agent said, his eyes swiftly becoming cold with anger.

"I did," Peter said, not flinching at Booth's glare. "Because you are being a coward. Why won't you visit Lance? I thought you were friends. Or were you friends only so far as it suited you?"

"Peter, that's not fair," Angela protested.

"Is it?" Peter said, refusing to back down or turn away from Booth's stare. "Or is it just the truth that you don't want to hear? That maybe you just used Lance to your own ends? I'm sure it was nice to have someone like him at your beck and call. Someone who you knew could clear you if there was any doubt about your ability to work in the field. Someone who would do profiling for you on demand or help with interrogations or even just give you insight into criminal pathology. I'm sure it's a nice ace to have up your sleeve. And I'll bet it went beyond that too…into all sorts of little favors. Because that's how Lance is: he would do anything for the people he truly cares about."

Peter stopped and took a breath and stepped even closer to Booth. The two of them were so close they almost touched as they continued to glare at each other.

"All he asked from you is your friendship," the soldier growled. "That's all he wanted from any of you. But I suppose that was too much to ask. Better to keep him at arm's length, isn't it? So he won't get any misguided ideas that you care about him beyond the next case or the next favor that you'll ask of him."

Peter and Booth stood toe to toe, neither of them moving an inch while the rage continued to build between them.

"Hey…you guys can't do this here," Angela said.

"You don't know how things are," Cam said, glowering at Peter. "You've no right to say any of that."

Peter ground his jaw and took a step back from Booth. He surveyed the faces looking at him and then shook his head.

"No…I suppose I don't, do I?" he said. The soldier then stormed off down the hallways. Booth watched him leave, and then turned to take off.

"Booth," Angela called after him. But the agent disappeared a few seconds later.

"I suspect that Agent Booth will only reach certain conclusions when he is ready to," Wyatt sighed, watching the anxious faces of the others. "In many ways though, he is the fortunate one from that little disagreement."

"How do you figure that?" Hodgins asked, incredulous.

"Well there's you lot out here, and the lovely Doctor Brennan in there," Wyatt said, gesturing toward them. "All of you are ready and willing to support him if he were to need it, yes?"

"Of course," Cam said. Angela and Hodgins nodded their agreement.

"Plus, there's his family to consider," Wyatt continued. "I understand that his relations with his brother are rather strained. But he is close to his son and to his grandfather, I take it?"

"Yes, of course, but I don't see how this changes…." Cam began.

"Sgt. Sweets is not waiting to see if a close friend is going to recover," Wyatt said. "He's waiting to see if his family will survive. His cousin is all the family Sgt. Sweets has now since apparently his military service has created a rift with the rest of his family. And I imagine that most of the friends he normally relies on are off serving in their respective units. So one has to wonder, who is Sgt. Sweets drawing support from in this difficult time?"

Cam, Hodgins and Angela looked at each other as understanding and regret began to dawn on them. Wyatt noted this and then walked off to find Peter.

* * *

Inside Sweets' room, Brennan sat stiffly and silently in the chair beside the psychologist's bed. She was never entirely sure of what she was supposed to do in situations like this. When Booth was in a coma, she had read the novel she was writing to him. Her most current project was in its earliest stages, so she didn't have that option for Sweets. Most of the time, she stuck with meditative silence for her visits. It wasn't difficult for her. While the others would often become restless and bored at the prospect of just sitting in one place quietly, Brennan usually found her own thoughts to be engaging enough to keep her occupied.

But as she watched Sweets breathe mechanically, the anthropologist became anxious. This emotion was bad enough, but what compounded the problem was that she was puzzled as to how she could alleviate the feelings she had. In the past, she would talk to Booth or Angela if she had a question as to how to relate to the people in her life. But neither of them were there at the moment, and she didn't want to wait for the right time to approach them with all of this. She needed some kind of advice or assurance now.

She looked over at the therapist and once again noticed how frail he looked. As she had mentioned in the hallway, Brennan had been closely monitoring Sweets' progress by studying his charts and talking to the doctors and nurses treating him. The facts had been good to gather, but they seemed to make a poor substitute for being able to see Sweets open his eyes or even breathe on his own.

Brennan sighed and took Sweets' hand into hers, a gesture she knew the others often did. She thought she had long since accepted the fact that life was ephemeral, but in moments like this, she wondered if she was losing the ability to accept that without pain or hesitation.

The anthropologist curled Sweets' fingers into hers. She knew that the others had spent time talking to the psychologist, even though she was sure that they knew that Sweets would not be able to respond to them. But she also reasoned that if Booth was able to absorb at least parts of the book she was reading to him, there was a chance that Sweets could gain something from her words.

"Doctor Sweets," Brennan said softly. "I…I wanted to say that I hope you get better soon and wake up. I'd like you to wake up because there are some things…that I'd like to ask you about."

Brennan let out a frustrated huff. Booth and Angela never understood why it was so difficult to express her feelings in words since they seemed to do it so eloquently. Then she remembered how Sweets was always asking her to "feel a situation instead of analyze it." The request rarely failed to annoy her, but she figured that Sweets would encourage her to do that now and thus, she couldn't be expected to be elegant in her words.

"I don't know what to say to Booth," she continued. "I know he's in distress, and I want to help him. Chef Wyatt agreed with me on this. But he didn't seem to have any ideas as to what to do….and he said that you were the only one who could fix things for him."

Brennan felt her throat catch and the words become harder to say as tears clouded her eyes, but she knew that she had to continue.

"I know that I can offer Booth my support and care…but he's pushing us away," she said. "And I don't know what to say to make him stop doing that, but I think you'd know. You often know what to say to him, even though I know he often doesn't acknowledge that around you."

The anthropologist leaned close, scanning Sweets' face for any sign that he was listening, but found none. Undaunted, she tightened her grip on his hand.

"I'm sorry," she added. "I've told you many times how useless psychology is as a field of study. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was including you in that assessment. Because the truth is…I…we…need you in situations like this. You seem to help us sort through our feelings even if you can't always define them. And perhaps that's why it's so…heart crushing that you're not awake right now. Because this is precisely the time that we would go to you for help."

Brennan stopped and twisted her fingers about. Even though she would never dare refer to herself as observant in regards to human emotions, she could see the toll all of this was taking on her friends and on Sweets' cousin. It seemed to be hitting Peter and Booth the hardest…each in their own way. She suspected that the blow would be worse if Sweets never woke up for the two of them, although she could see little difference between death and the state the psychologist was currently in.

She carefully placed Sweets hand back onto the bed and drew the sheets closer around him, smoothing them out as she did so.

"Please wake up soon, Sweets," Brennan murmured. "We…I…need you to help us through this."

Brennan collapsed back into her chair and continued her vigil over Sweets for the next two hours alone while silently grappling with her inescapable feelings of loss.


	26. Chapter 26

Author's Note: Sorry. I know I've been neglecting my fics of late, but I do plan to rectify that somewhat this weekend with an update today and an update on one of my other fics tomorrow. For all of you who are still following my work, I really appreciate your patience.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you as always to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Peanutmeg: **I tell you, college work is killing me this semester. It doesn't help that I'm about to wrap up my associates degree and transfer to a larger university. It's keeping me busy. But yeah, it seemed logical to me that Wyatt would be his advocate since he has a medical background and has gotten pretty close to him. I also figured that Peter and Booth might has some friction since they both have a sort of "big brother" instinct. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Fearlee: **Peter definitely has a bit of a temper (much like David) when it comes to slights against his family. As for Booth, Wyatt was onto something when he said that he would need his own epiphany in order to finally do what he needed to do...

**Rankor01: **Thank you for the review. While I do see the potential for Peter and Booth to get along well, I could also see something like this grating Peter intensely. Especially since he doesn't know everything about Sweets' friendship with Booth. Plus, I picture Peter not being intimidated by Booth the way some of the others are at times, and thus would be able to say what Booth needed to hear. Hope you enjoy this update.

**D: **Peter is only three years older than Sweets (and I'm putting him around 24 or so in this story) so while he's had more experience than Sweets, he's not had as much experience as someone like Booth. Plus, Peter does have a bit of a sensitive spot when it comes to Lance, a result of taking on that big brother role. And I completely agree with you that Booth is not someone who's comfortable sharing his feelings with someone if there is an audience...

**Dr.Z's girl: **Sorry for the slow updates. As I've mentioned, college is a bear this semester, but I always return to my fics. Thanks for the review. :D

**Healing cat: **Thank you. :) Some call my cliffhangers and heightened suspense torture, but I think it adds something to the story. I hope you enjoy this update.

**Anutheal: **Hey, no problem about the long review. I love getting feedback about my work, so I enjoyed reading what you had written. :) The comment about burning pork was a slight in-joke to a Bones episode (The Passenger in the Oven). My regular readers will tell you that I love to sprinkle little allusions like that throughout my work, but don't be surprised if the topic doesn't come up again for a more sinister reason...As to the timeline for this: I picture this being somewhere in Season Five's time period, but it's obviously somewhat AU since if this had happened during that season, Sweets' role would have been radically different. As to why Daisy isn't around...this season has me very stymied in relation to her. I probably wouldn't mind seeing her work out things with Sweets, but I really do **not **like some of the ways she's been manipulating him this season. Since I'm pretty passionate about keeping people in character, and I don't know if I could do justice to Daisy at this point, my solution has been to not feature her in my work these days. Sort of like how the show sometimes doesn't mention her for a while...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update, and yes, Sweets is my favorite character too (if that wasn't pretty obvious) ;)

**Sarlovesoccer: **Thank you so much for the review. :) Sorry I haven't been updating much of late, but hopefully this chapter will make up for it. As to your question about Daisy, see my note to **Anutheal **above.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 26

_Lance did not want to open his eyes, even though he knew that he needed to._

_Awareness had finally started to seep back into his mind, and he was relieved to discover that he could take a full breath again. But he was also worried about what he would find when he woke up._

'_What if all that….all that before with Dad and finally being away from Andrew was just a dream? An illusion from delirium?' he thought. Lance tried to squeeze his eyes even tighter shut._

"_It's all right, sport. You can open your eyes now."_

_The sound of David's voice made Lance's anxiety melt away, flooding him with relief. He opened his eyes and saw his father leaning over him. It was then that he realized that he was lying on the grass again. _

"_Dad? What happened there?" he asked. David held out a hand which he used to help his son sit up. _

"_You had a close call," David told him. "You had edged over a little closer toward death. But that's over now."_

"_It's over? Does that mean that I'm away from Andrew?" Lance inquired. "That someone is taking care of me? Or that I'm in a hospital or something?"_

"_To be honest, I don't know, Lance," David said, shaking his head. "I stayed with you while that monster had you, but the moment your life began to fade, I followed you here. I haven't left you since then. So I'm not sure what is happening to your body right now."_

"_Who knew that death would be so complicated," the psychologist huffed. His father let out a short chuckle. _

"_Is that really all that surprising?" David smiled. "Considering how complicated life is, it makes sense that the afterlife would be as well."_

_Lance smirked back for a moment and then scooted over so he could lean against the rock he had been sitting on. David noticed his son's pensive stare and sat down next to him. _

"_Something else on your mind, sport?"_

"_I don't know….I keep hearing something," Lance shrugged. "Voices? Echoes? Memories? I'm not sure what they are."_

"_Memories?" David replied. "Memories of anything in particular?" _

"_It's the voices of my fri—"_

_Lance suddenly stopped himself. His recent dreams and visions about the people close to him rejecting and abandoning him were still a fresh wound in his heart. _

"_They're the people I work with," the psychologist finished. "Sometimes I swear that they're here somewhere because I can hear them as plainly as I can hear you."_

_Lance slumped against the rock, exhaling loudly as he did._

"_Maybe I'm finally going a little crazy," he muttered. "There have been times in my life when I thought I might." David patted his shoulder._

"_And I've told you before that you're not crazy, sport," he insisted. "You're just going through another difficult time is all. Besides I think you were onto something with that theory you mentioned before. Aren't these friends of yours supposed to be the best at what they do? Chances are that they found you, and now you're being treated for your injuries."_

_Lance managed to find a stray leaf on the ground and began fiddling with it so as to give him an excuse to not acknowledge what David was saying. _

"_What you're hearing is probably your friends hoping and praying for your recovery," his father continued. "Their pleas are reaching you here."_

_When he thought about what he had experienced in this place thus far, David's logic made sense to Lance. Try as he might, he couldn't place the things that he heard with any specific memory he had of his co-workers. It figured somehow that these things were being said to him as he lay unconscious, hovering between life and death._

'_The truth is we are all alone Lance.'_

'_The sooner you stop holding onto this idiotic fantasy of "helping people" and realize that no one cares about you, the better off you'll be.'_

_Lance felt his eyes grow wet as Andrew's words came back to him, but he was determined to not let his feelings overwhelm him again._

"_They're not my friends. They are my patients and colleagues," Lance replied finally looking up at David. "I'm sure that they are concerned about me in a general sense since they work with me on a regular basis, but that's as far as things go with them."_

"_That's not true, sport," David frowned. "The only way they could reach you here is if they were close to your heart. That's why I am able to be here with you now."_

"_If that's true then why do I still have those scars on my back?" Lance snapped. "They're still there…even in this place that you say is all about the things I care about most. Do you honestly think I care to think about….about that?"_

"_The scars are a manifestation of the person you are, Lance. You can't escape that."_

"_You mean because I'm damaged," Lance choked out. David clasped his shoulder._

"_No, because you are brave and compassionate," he responded. "You are far from damaged, and I have told you to stop using that word in relation to yourself. The only reason you still have your scars here is because they represent the struggle you face every day between light and dark. That will never go away for you as long as you live."_

_Lance went back to studying his leaf, trying to trace the intricate veins and lines with one of his fingers._

"_Dad…can we stop this for now?" he murmured. "Can I just sit here with you for a while?"_

"_Sure sport," David said as he put his arm around Lance's shoulders. "Take whatever time you need.

* * *

_

At 3 am, in the midst of another long night, Seeley Booth was wishing yet again that he could sleep.

It was now two weeks since they had rescued Sweets, and he had killed Andrew. Booth finally managed to tie up all of the loose details surrounding the case, and officially it was closed. The agent had been assigned to other cases and everyone at the Medico-Legal lab was working on other assignments.

During this time, Sweets' health had continued to improve. A couple days ago, Werner declared that he was no longer in critical condition and had him moved to a regular room, while making sure that he would continue to be closely monitored. His pleural infection finally started to clear, and he was taken off the ventilator, but still required an oxygen mask to breathe. His bruises had begun to fade and his burns and lacerations were slowly healing.

Three things, however, had not changed in this time.

One was the fact that Sweets was still in a coma. Although Werner and Wyatt were pleased at the progress the psychologist was making, they still were unsure of his chances for recovery. Wyatt remained firm; however, in his assertion that no real decisions could be made at this time and asked that Sweets' treatment continue on for now.

The second was the continued stream of visitors who stayed with Sweets, ensuring that he was never alone. After Sweets was moved to his own room, flowers and other small gifts appeared to remind the psychologist that they were thinking of him even when they weren't there. Angela even brought in the photographs she had re-printed and re-framed and set them up in a little display to bring some more comfort to the room. In the face of extreme exhaustion, Peter finally gave in to Cam's suggestion that he stay with his cousin in shifts like the rest of them did as opposed to non-stop. He continued to come more frequently though and remain longer than the others did.

The last constant of late was the fact that Booth still had not spent any time with Sweets in the hospital. He continued to get regular reports on the psychologist's condition from Brennan, but he avoided all other attempts to talk about Sweets' or his lack of visits.

Booth groaned and rolled over to lie on his back. He had tried attributing his sleeplessness to residuals from when he was getting very little rest during his search for Jensen and in the aftermath when he was trying to wrap everything up. But even after that had all been resolved, he found himself unable to rest more than a couple hours a night.

The agent sighed and tried shifting about in bed in an attempt to get more comfortable. He knew that if he was honest with himself, he could pinpoint what was keeping him up at night: guilt mixed with regret. He had thought he was doing the right thing somehow by focusing on his work and letting the others take care of Sweets.

'_It's not like there's a whole lot I could do there,'_ he told himself. '_That whole…sharing, divulging, telling him about my feelings….that's not the kind of guy I am.'_

Even this logic tended to break down though when he remembered Brennan's heartfelt words to Sweets that first night in the hospital. She was also never one for talking a lot about feelings, but she still found the words to convey her friendship and her sincere desire that the psychologist would get better.

Booth sat up and ran his hands along his face; whenever he allowed himself a quiet moment, Cam's and Wyatt's words would chide for his failure to support Sweets and he wished that he could think about something else.

'_Don't worry, Booth….You won't forget your true self.'_

The agent blinked at that thought; he remembered the day that Sweets had told him that all too vividly.

* * *

_It had been only about a week after recovering from his coma. During that time, Booth had not been disoriented enough to miss how the doctors and nurses walked on eggshells around him. They avoided direct answers to the questions that he would ask about his condition with the nurses giving him vague reassurances and the doctors lapsing into medico-speak. It didn't help his case that a lot of his questions were delivered in a slow, somewhat slurred voice. _

_After a week of this, Booth found himself even more irritable than ever and was brooding when Sweets walked in for his daily visit._

"_Good morning Agent Booth," the psychologist said with a little too much cheer for Booth's taste. Sweets pulled up a chair and settled in beside the bed._

"_How are you feeling today?" he asked. _

"_Hi…uh…Sweets?" At the psychologist's affirmative nod, Booth continued. _

"_How do I feel? Like I've been in a coma and then cooped up in a hospital for too damn long."_

_The therapist ignored Booth's tone and pressed on._

"_Is there anything new you would like to share with me?" he asked. "Anything about your dream or anything else that is on your mind?"_

"_No, there's not," Booth scowled. "And I doubt there will be anything anytime soon. So just tell me if my wife is stopping by today. I'm pretty sure she didn't come by yesterday."_

_There was an awkward pause as Sweets blinked a couple times before answering._

"_Agent Booth…Doctor Brennan is in Guatemala," he said. "She has been there for the past two days. And you are not married to her. She's your partner. You solve cases together."_

_As Sweets talked, Booth felt a rush of embarrassment and frustration. He remembered that he had been told all this before: Brennan wasn't his wife, and he didn't own a club. It was all part of some elaborate dream he had created. _

_Knowing this did not calm Booth's temper one bit._

"_Fine," he said, the scowl deepening. "Then…then why don't you focus on your job and help me remember things like that….along with everything else I can't remember. Enough of asking me how I feel. I get too much of that around here."_

"_All right," the psychologist said. His smile was gone, but his eyes were still friendly._

"_Do you remember any of the things we discussed yesterday about your job and your family?"_

_Booth shut his eyes and sighed. Conversations like this sometimes made him feel tired and listless, and this was one of those times. _

"_Some of it…I think…I don't know," the agent snapped. "Look, aren't you supposed to be helping me get my memory back. Why am I doing all the work here? And why are we spending all this time talking about my dream, and how I feel about it."_

_Booth turned his gaze toward Sweets and began to glare at him._

"_Either answer my questions about what's going on with me and about the life I had or get out," he growled. "I don't need some kid poking at my head like it's some kind of science project."_

_Sweets stiffened his posture slightly, but his expression remained impassive._

"_What would you like to know?" he asked._

"_For starters, how I am doing…for real," Booth replied._

"_Hasn't anyone discussed it with you here?" the psychologist asked, surprise evident in his tone._

"_They just tell me that I'm doing better or give me a bunch of gobbledygook," the agent said. "Tell me in plain language: what is going on?"_

_Sweets proceeded to tell him in simple terms about his tumor, coma and about how they could be affecting him now. He then looked over Booth's latest chart and shared the results with him. When he was done, Booth sank down into his bed._

"_That's all I wanted," he murmured. "Thanks Sweets."_

"_You're welcome," Sweets said. "Let me know in the future if you need to go over any of this again. You look tired now. Perhaps you need a break?"_

_Sweets started to get up, but Booth's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist._

"_Could you…could you stay and, you know…go over some more stuff or…." Booth let go and squirmed a little in his bed._

"_Of course I'll stay," Sweets said, sitting back down. The two of them sat in silence for a while before Booth spoke again._

"_Sweets…about earlier…."_

"_It's all right," the psychologist assured him. "Your thoughts and feelings are going to be confused for a while. It's a by-product of your tumor and subsequent surgery."_

"_So you're saying that I'm not normally this moody?" Booth slurred while trying to work up a small smirk._

"_I wouldn't say that," Sweets teased back. "But all this is probably wearing on your nerves. It will pass."_

"_Or maybe this is how I'll be from now on," Booth said, suddenly somber. "I can't remember much else. Maybe I'll never be….whoever I was ever again."_

_The therapist reached over and patted his arm, and Booth looked over at him. _

"_You may be confused now, but that's not how it will be forever," Sweets said. "Don't worry, Booth. You won't forget your true self. It will come through as you recover, I promise."_

_Booth nodded and felt himself becoming drowsy again. As he closed his eyes, he was aware of how exhausted he was, but he couldn't quell the small nagging fear that he had had since he woke up that when he opened his eyes again nothing would remain or be the same._

_The agent swallowed hard; he wanted and needed to rest….but he didn't want to be alone either._

"_Sweets," he said sleepily. "I just…need to close my eyes for a little while…so don't….don't think you can…."_

"_I'll be here when you wake up," the therapist told him. "Go ahead and rest for now, and we will pick this up later."

* * *

_

As the memory finished playing out in his mind, Booth got up and began to pace around the room. He didn't like to think about those six weeks right after his coma, but he did remember how Sweets had kept his word and was still there when he woke up from his slumber.

He then thought again about his actions over the last couple of weeks and became angry. Booth tried punching the door to his bedroom, but it did nothing to relieve his tension.

He knew what he needed to do.

Decision made, he turned on the lights and went to his closet to grab some clothes.

* * *

A short time later, Booth was walking down the corridors of the hospital, heading toward the number Brennan had given him for Sweets' room. Werner had left instructions for the nurses to not restrict visiting hours, so even at this time of night, Booth was able to walk right to the psychologist's room. When he got there he was surprised to see Sweets lying there alone and walked in.

The agent took in the arrays of flowers and gifts that had been left behind, but his eye was drawn toward the photographs displayed nearby. Booth went over to study them and discovered that they were pictures of Sweets in his younger days with his family. One in particular caught his attention: a picture of Sweets standing with a man who had his arm around the therapist shoulders.

'_That must have been his father,' _Booth thought. He knew that David Sweets was probably a good man based on the reports he had read, but while looking into the man's emerald eyes, Booth saw something familiar in his expression. It was an expression that he knew mirrored his own when he was with Parker: an expression of deep, unshakable love of a father for his son.

Booth moved to sit down in the empty chair beside the bed and glanced over at Sweets. He was relieved to see that the therapist looked better than what he did on the night he had been brought in, but it unsettled Booth to see him so still. The Sweets he had come to know was full of energy: always fidgeting, shuffling about in his sometimes awkward gait, always curious about what was going on. It seemed…wrong somehow to see him in this motionless, unresponsive state.

He then took a deep breath.

"Sweets," he said in a low voice, his throat raw and tight. "It's me. I…I'm sorry that I didn't come before now."


	27. Chapter 27

Author's Note: Next chapter. After looking at how this story is turning out and considering the amount of plot I have left to develop, I am toying with the idea of ending this fic in a few chapters and then immediately starting one more sequel that will finish out this storyline. But I was curious as to what my readers would think of that. So, any thoughts? Would you like me to write one last sequel to finish this all out?

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Rankor01: **I see Booth as someone who always figures out the right thing to do in the end, so it made sense that he ended up here on his own...And yes, the brain scans: a topic of much discussion among Bones fans. I have my own thoughts on that, which will be addressed eventually when I start my The Observations of the Friend fic back up (yes, I'm actually getting ready to update that one again here soon). To sum up though...Sweets is far from a perfect person and he had definitely made some mistakes. But, much like Booth, he has many good qualities, and I try to balance that out within his character in my fics.

**Super Ario: **Again, sorry about that. Darn typos. You're right that Peter is older than Lance and thus exhibits all those "big brother" tendencies that make up for not having an actual brother of his own...Thanks for the review, and you could be onto something as far as Sweets waking up any time soon...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I saw this a a good parallel from when Booth was in a coma due to his brain tumor and thus figured that it would be a good way to remind Booth of what he needed to do. Glad you enjoyed it and that you got your computer back. :) I hope you enjoy this update too.

**Cobalt6233: **I've heard that some semesters of college are more challenging than others and this is one of those times for me. Fortunately, I'm finally starting to get a handle on my work. And I'm glad that you liked that comparison I made with David/Lance and Booth/Parker. Since I see them as being a lot alike, I figured that Booth would recognize the same devotion David has for Lance because of his bond with Parker. Both men are definitely fathers at heart.

**D: **It's not really a spoiler to say that I agree with you completely and that it's a thought that will be explored as this story moves forward...

**Abandon-Morality: **Haha, thanks for the review. :) So...that was a little too short? Well here is a nice **long **chapter to make up for that...

**Analorien: **Glad you are enjoying this so far. Keeping everyone in character is a huge thing for me (as I'm sure I've mentioned), so it's very gratifying to hear that everyone seems IC for you. As for a happy ending...I'm a sucker for happy endings I will admit...We will just have to see how this plays out. ;)

**Peanutmeg: **No problem on the delay. I figured that I would hear from you at some point. :) I'm only about half-way done with this semester, so I still have quite a while to go. But I'm hoping to keep updating on a more regular basis for a while longer...even if things do get crazy again (which I'm sure they will). Anyway, I'm glad you liked Booth's flashback. I'm hoping to start up my post-coma fic again soon, and I considered that a bit of a warm up. Thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

**Lady No Da 201: **Well thankfully I was able to update sooner than I thought I would. :) Thanks for the review.

**Fear Herself: **Your timing is well placed. We may consider that treaty after all. :D By the way, since I love to tie all my stories together, I **loved **that you spotted the parallels between Booth and David in those two fics. Especially since both of them involved Andrew and their inability to keep Sweets safe from him (even though in both instances, it wasn't through any fault of their own). With them being a lot alike, I imagined them reacting in very similar ways. But as you've observed, the both of them knew what they needed to do in the end. I hope this was a fast enough update for you. ;)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 27

Booth paused after that and shifted about in his chair, wondering how the others adjusted to sitting in it during their long visits. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself. He had known coming in that this would not be easy, but was still surprised at just how hard this was turning out to be.

"I…wanted to say that…I'm sorry," Booth said. "I promised you that nothing would happen, that you would be safe, but I failed. There's no excuse for that, so I'm not going to try and offer one. So I'll just say it again: I'm sorry that I didn't protect you."

The agent became quiet again and listened to the clicks and beeps of the machines around him. He had more that he needed to say, but he also needed time to work up the courage to speak it aloud.

"I also wanted to say that I need you to get better," he mumbled. "I know that's kind of selfish of me considering what's happened, but it's true. And...well I'm not the only one, you know? Bones, Cam, Angela, Hodgins….they all need you too. That cousin of yours…he does too."

Booth cleared his throat in an attempt to loosen it up. He remembered how Peter's words during their confrontation had left him enraged, but as time passed, Booth found it impossible to stay angry at him. He could sense that Peter was a good soldier and a good man, who was just trying to protect his family. It was an urge Booth understood completely. Still, the things the soldier said had continued to churn inside his heart.

"He's wrong," Booth said finally. "You know that, right? I mean, there are other profilers, other psychologists at the Bureau I could work with. But they're not you. They don't belong on my team. You do. And not just because you're the best at what you do just like Bones and her squints. But because….because…."

Booth felt his eyes become moist and he clenched his hands. He was starting to venture into parts of himself that he didn't like to share with others. He then reminded himself that Sweets had seen this side of him before: after his coma, after his disastrous attempt to start a more romantic relationship with Brennan, and during other private conversations they had shared. That thought gave him clarity and strength even if it did nothing to ease the turmoil he was experiencing.

"You're not just another squint," Booth said. "You're a friend…one of the closest I've had in a while. In fact, in some ways you're more like…a brother. At least, you're often a better one than Jared is most of the time."

The agent sniffed and leaned back into his chair while crossing his arms across his chest.

"You know, I heard Hodgins tell Angela all about there being more than one kind of family that time when we all got together for Christmas this last year. And for once, I think he's onto something. I believe that everyone has two families in this world."

Booth rubbed his eyes and ran his hand down his face before continuing.

"There's the family that you get by pure chance. You're born into it, and there's nothing you can do about that. If you're lucky, that family is a good one, and you love each other. But just as often, you don't really love each other, even though you should. Other times…other times it's impossible to love them because of type of people they are. That's one of the worst things in this world and something the two of us know too much about."

"But then there's the family that you build around you during your life," Booth added. "They're the ones you know you love and the ones you know will love you back because it's not just about some random chance of blood. It's about the choice you made to let them into your life and the bond you share with them."

Booth scooted his chair a little closer to the bed. He then reached down and clasped one of Sweets' shoulders firmly.

"Your family needs you now," he said softly. "Please wake up for them…and for me."

The agent then lowered his head and began to pray again while keeping his hand on Sweets' shoulder. He had heard from Brennan that some of the doctors had mentioned that it would probably take a miracle for the psychologist to regain consciousness by this point.

But Booth had seen miracles happen, and he was praying for one now.

He was so intent on his prayers, he didn't even notice a figure standing near the doorway.

* * *

Staff Sergeant Peter Edward Sweets was tired.

It was the kind of weariness that extended far beyond the mere physical sense of the word. His mind and heart were almost too exhausted to think or feel. For the last couple of days, Peter felt little more than numb, and he often wished that he could crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

Instead he continued to stay with Lance every day, sometimes more than once a day if one of his cousin's friends at the Jeffersonian had to leave early or skip a visitation due to work obligations. He was determined to not leave Lance alone for more than a few moments at a time.

Thus, despite his tiredness, Peter found himself in the hospital in the middle of the night, sitting by his cousin's bedside, still hoping that he wasn't going to lose pretty much the only family he had left in the world.

But hours of sitting and waiting were contrary to the soldier's active nature. He liked having things to do and goals to accomplish. These long stretches of quiet contemplation had a tendency to turn into bouts of brooding over his experiences in combat and to the conflict he continued to have with his mother and sister. Peter longed for the guidance of his late father, Vincent, during these times and found its absence painful.

After just sitting for almost three hours, Peter reached over and patted his cousin's arm.

"I'll be right back, Lance," he said as he stood up. "I just need to take a break for a few minutes."

Peter went to get a drink of water and then ended up wandering the halls in order to clear his mind. His thoughts continued to return to his father and to the things he used to tell him. Vincent was never much for deep conversations, but whenever he did have one with his son, his words tended to stick with Peter. One of these conversations was especially vivid in Peter's mind at the moment.

'_Son, you never lose family. They will always be with you no matter where you go or what happens. They walk alongside you every moment you are in this world.'_

His father had told him this a couple of months before he died. At the time, Peter couldn't understand how Vincent could believe that considering the fact that he hadn't spoken to his brother, David, for years by that point. It became even more unbelievable during those months and years after his father's death when he had wished that he was still here.

It finally made sense to him though after he had joined the Army and traveled around to various missions. Often in the heat of battle, Peter could feel his father's presence beside him. It gave him the extra push of courage he needed to fight.

But as much as he believed in the idea of his father traveling with him in his heart, Peter did not want to think about the possibility that Lance would soon become just another memory he would carry with him.

'_If there was just something I could do,'_ he told himself. '_Something I could say that would make him realize that he needs to wake up.'_

Peter stopped and leaned against a wall, absentmindedly tapping it with his fist. He knew that it wasn't as simple as that, but that didn't stop him from wanting to find some way to wake his cousin up. It didn't help that a part of him still felt responsible for not being there for Lance even though Wyatt had shown him the error in this line of thinking.

After another moment, Peter straightened himself up and headed back to Lance's room. He was still wired, but he didn't want to leave his cousin alone for too long in case Lance needed him.

As he approached the doorway, Peter was startled to hear a voice coming from the room.

"You're not just another squint."

Peter edged carefully over to the doorway to see Booth sitting in the chair that he had been occupying a little while ago. He couldn't hear everything being said, but the soldier could tell that Booth's voice held a myriad of emotions: grief, regret, compassion and camaraderie.

Peter pulled back into the hallway, conflicted. He was still angry with the agent for avoiding Lance for so long and didn't know how to feel about this late night visit at first. But then he remembered the conversation he had with Wyatt a few days ago.

* * *

_It was shortly after his confrontation with Booth. Unable to hold in his anger for a moment longer, Peter had stormed outside and paced about as he tried to calm down. After a few minutes, Wyatt came out and stood beside him._

"_Sgt. Sweets…" the chef started. But Peter held up a hand to stop him._

"_Look…I'm sorry that I snapped like that," he said. "I'll make sure to apologize to the others later. I just…"_

_Peter turned and watched the people walking about on the grounds._

"_I'm not the best of company right now," he continued. "So….if you don't mind…."_

"_If that is your wish, I will leave," Wyatt replied. "But I only require a moment of your time and your attention, I assure you. If you would like to remain silent, that is fine."_

_Peter shrugged and the former psychiatrist took it as a sign that he could continue. _

"_I do not blame you for your fit of pique just now," Wyatt said. "You were only doing what you thought was necessary to care for young Doctor Sweets. But may I pose a set of questions?"_

"_I guess," Peter shrugged again._

"_Doctor Sweets…he had played an important role in your life, hasn't he?" the chef asked. "Perhaps even helped you through some difficult times of your own?"_

_The soldier nodded, but kept his gaze on the horizon._

"_You discovered how much of a prodigy he was and while it was a little intimidating to you, you decided to encourage it," Wyatt mused. "And when he lacked confidence in his own abilities, you supported him, did you not?"_

_Peter remained quiet, but Wyatt could see that his words were having an effect on him._

"_You don't like to see him injured in any way," he continued. "You protect him. Not just from a physical assault, mind you, but from the ones that wound the mind and heart as well. You've seen Doctor Sweets' generous heart and the idea of someone manipulating it or crushing it disgusts you, doesn't it?"_

"_Yes," Peter mumbled, looking down at the pavement._

"_You take on this responsibility because he is your younger brother and you feel it's your duty to protect him. A duty you gladly take on. Am I right?"_

"_Cousin…not my brother," Peter corrected, finally glancing over at the chef._

"_Well we both know better than that, now don't we?" Wyatt said with a bit of smirk. _

"_So what if we do?"Peter said, his defenses rising again. "Lance told me about you, all right? So I know there's no point in denying any of the stuff you've said about me. It's all true. But what are you trying to prove here?"_

"_I'm not trying to prove anything, just making an observation," Wyatt said, backing away._

"_What observation?" the soldier demanded. _

"_All these questions and statements…I wasn't pulling them from what I've learned about you…They are things I've observed in Agent Booth."_

_Peter stood still, stunned for a moment before speaking again._

"_Then why?" he asked. "If what you say is true, then why has he been avoiding Lance?"_

"_Sgt. Sweets, if you had to pick your cousin's greatest flaw, what would you choose?"_

_Peter opened his mouth to respond, but paused, unsure of his next words._

"_If I were to guess, I'd say you might choose Doctor Sweets' continued battle to properly assess his own worth," Wyatt answered. "Your cousin has had many tortuous moments in his life that have left numerous wounds to his psyche. Wounds that he continues to deal with to this day. Have you considered the possibility that perhaps Doctor Sweets is not the only one with these sorts of wounds?"_

_Peter was about to ask him what he meant, but Wyatt took off back into the building.

* * *

_

Standing in the hallway now, Peter felt like the suspicions he had begun to form after that talk were turning out to be true. Suddenly his own words to Lance from a few years ago came back to him. At the time, his cousin was struggling to make any sort of close friends outside of family, and Peter had tried to assure him that that would change over time.

'_Sometimes, a person you think you could never get along with, who you might think you have nothing in common with, can turn out to be just the sort of person you could get close to.'_

Peter sighed and went to pace back down the hallways.

'_I told Lance that, but I guess I didn't see it until now,'_ he told himself. '_And that's probably what Wyatt was trying to hint at….that Lance and Agent Booth are more alike than they appear on the surface.'_

After considering this, Peter began to think about what would happen if the roles had somehow been reversed and it was Lance who felt like he had failed his friend. Peter knew that it would tear Lance up inside…and possibly make him act out in a similar way to how Booth did.

The soldier kept walking down the hall. He decided to wait a little longer before going back so Booth could have the time he needed alone.

* * *

'_Your family needs you now…Please wake up for them…and for me.'_

'_Booth?'_

_Lance shook his head as tears welled up in his eyes again. He had tried to avoid thinking about Booth ever since he woke up in this place. But the moment he heard the agent's voice inside his head, it became nearly impossible to do._

'_Why am I hearing him? He's gone…I saw his body…Why am I hearing him here?'_

"_Sport? Is there something wrong?" David asked, noting the distress on his son's face._

"_I….I just….I" Lance stopped as his breath hitched. He didn't want to break down again, but knew that he was losing the battle to stop himself._

"_This is about your friends, isn't it?" his father inquired. "You're still hearing their hopes and prayers in your mind?"_

_The psychologist shook his head vigorously even as he sniffed hard. David placed a hand on Lance's shoulder. _

"_Lance…I think you know why you keeping hearing them. And I think you know what it means."_

"_That…it's not my time?" Lance murmured. "That I'm not meant to stay here and that it's time to return to my life?"_

"_Sport?"_

"_I don't want to go back," the therapist choked out. "Why do I have to go back?"_

"_Why don't you want to return to your life?" David asked, his voice laced with concern._

"_Because…because there's nothing there," Lance gasped. "I have no family, no real friends. I work in a job that no one really cares about. I just…exist. Trudging through life day after day with no meaning or purpose to it all. Why do I have to go back to that?"_

_Lance scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand while trying to steady his voice._

"_Even the things that are good…the moments when I can actually be happy…they never last," the psychologist said. "And then I'll be alone again."_

"_That's not true, Lance," David frowned._

"_Yes it is," Lance shot back. "I know because….because you left me. You and Mom."_

_David looked hurt at his son's words, but the psychologist pressed on._

"_Here I was, trying to start a new life in a new place," he said. "I was so scared and nervous. I needed your support desperately. But instead I ended up losing the only people who cared about me."_

_The tears finally rolled down Lance's cheeks, and he stopped trying to resist them._

"_Do you know how many times I wished that I could talk to you during that time?" he asked. "How many times I longed for any sort of advice or company or even just some reassurance during those days and weeks? All I had to look forward to was endless hours of work broken up by even more countless hours spent alone in my apartment, knowing that no one really cared if I woke up the next day." _

_Lance bowed his head, his entire body hunching over in his grief._

"_I don't want to go back to being alone," he said through his sobs. "Where all I'll have is pain and emptiness and…."_

'_Guilt,' he finished in his mind, still unable to vocalize his sorrow at being the cause of Booth's death._

_Soon he felt David's hands rub his shoulders in an effort to comfort him._

"_Lance…Carolyn never wanted to leave you," his father said softly. "You were on her mind even in her last moments. The idea that she would not be there with you anymore brought her so much sadness."_

_David let out a sigh, and Lance, hearing his father hesitate, lifted his head._

"_When she was gone…a large part of me went with her," David said. "I knew that you were in pain, and it grieved me to see it. But…sport, Carolyn is the love of my life, the other half of my soul. As much as I cherish you, my son, my mind and my body just knew somehow that I couldn't….go on that way…"_

_Lance immediately began to regret his words and put his hand on his father's arm._

"_It's all right, Dad," he soothed. "I understand…And as much as I hated it, I understood it then too. You needed to be with her again." David gave him a sad smile._

"_I knew you would understand, Lance," he said. "But you should know that we did regret leaving you. What you went through…that had to have been difficult to bear."_

_Lance's tears finally stopped and David patted his shoulders._

"_But sport, you did a wonderful job working through that period of your life," his father said. "I look at you now, and I'm impressed with how much you've grown and how strong you've become. You pushed through all those things and made a new life for yourself. But there is one thing you must keep in mind."_

_David leaned toward him and Lance almost flinched at the intense look in his eyes._

"_Do not let Andrew's lies infect you," David said, his voice stern with an undercurrent of rage. "He said a lot of untrue things just to hurt you, and you cannot let yourself believe them. He was just angry that he could never measure up to the man that you are and was trying to cover up his own pain by inflicting it onto you. You bring so much to the world through your work and by being the person that you are….And now you have another family who cares for you and who is waiting for you."_

_The two of them stood up from the ground. David continued to look his son in the eye._

"_Your mother and I…we won't leave you, and we will be together again someday. I think you understand that now. So it's time for you to return to your new family."_

"_I did so many things wrong," Lance mumbled. "I don't know….I don't know if they'll…."_

"_You know that they will welcome you back," David said gently. "That's why you're hearing them here." He then embraced his son tightly. _

"_Go to them now," David said._

"_Dad…I'm scared," Lance whispered._

"_I know," David said, patting his back. "I won't lie to you and say that it will be easy for you when you return because it won't be at all. You will have to use every ounce of courage and strength you have to recover from this. But I promise you…you will not be alone. Not for any of it."_

"_Dad…thank you," the psychologist said. "For this, and for everything else you did for me. I owe you and Mom my whole life. I love you."_

"_And I love you, my son," David said, giving him one last squeeze. "Thank you for giving your mother and I some of the happiest years of our lives." David let him go and Lance looked around at the landscape._

"_So what do I do now?" he asked. "Just start walking away or close my eyes and make a wish….or what?"_

"_It won't be anything that complicated," David grinned. "You'll leave once you're finished here. But it looks like you have one last piece of unfinished business."_

"_What do you mean?" Lance asked, furrowing his eyebrows together. Just then a sound from behind him made the psychologist turn around. There he saw a petite woman with greying hair and blue eyes walking toward him._

"_Hello baby," the woman smiled. "I'm so happy I could see you again."_

"_Mom," Lance managed to sputter out before rushing over to meet her.

* * *

_

Booth ended up sitting in silence after he finished praying. He felt like he should say more, but found it almost impossible to form the words while maintaining control. He figured that someone would be coming back to the room at any time to continue their vigil with Sweets, and he didn't want to lose it in front of them.

But when he glanced back up at the psychologist, Booth knew that there was one last thing that needed to be said.

"Listen, I know that if you wake up….when you wake up, it's going to be hard for you," he said. Booth put his hand back on Sweets' shoulder and rubbed his thumb along the side while his fingers gripped the top of his shoulder firmly, but gently.

"I want you to know that I won't make the same mistake again," he murmured, making sure to look Sweets in the eyes while he said it. "Whatever happens….I'll be here. I promise."

Booth patted the psychologist's shoulder a couple times and then stood up to walk over to the window. He would wait until whoever was staying with Sweets returned.

Until then, there was nothing that could make him exit this room.


	28. Chapter 28

Author's Note: Next chapter. After thinking things over, I'm betting that it's more than likely that there will be one last sequel after this story is over. But as it is, we still have a few chapters left in this one...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Rankor01: **I completely agree with your insight into Booth and Sweets. The fact that they rely on their feelings or psychology instead of a balanced perspective explains some of the common hardships the two of them have faced like sometimes difficult relationships with the opposite sex and struggles with personal worth. But as you've pointed out, it can be an asset as times since being so in touch with their feelings has made the two of them adept at empathizing with others and makes it so that they both are eager to help other people however they can...Oh and thank you for the heads up on Peter and his rank. I don't mind being told these details at all and welcome the info.

**D: **Yes, that is one thing I enjoy about Wyatt: he really knows how to ask just the right question to get the wheels turning in the proper direction in these people's minds. I like your analogy of him being this sort of "wise elder" of this family and I think you will agree that this side of him shows up even more in this chapter...And yes, I think Peter is slowly getting pulled in, whether he realizes it or not...

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for your advice. I'm starting to lean toward a sequel just because there is a lot that I would still like to explore, but yet I feel that I don't want to drag this part of the story past its limit. Glad you enjoyed the update, and I hope this quarter is wrapping up well for you.

**Tori.M: **Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I'm happy that you felt inspired to keep writing. Writing is a hobby and a joy for me, so I'm glad that you are jumping back into it. And yes, college does keep me busy, but I'll continue to try to find time to update. I hope you enjoy the rest of it.

**Lives in the now: **Yeah, I thought that it would be important too for Carolyn to show up at some point. She was just as instrumental to Sweets' life as David was, and I imagine that Sweets would long to see her again. And yes, while I do have a sequel in mind, it won't be so long before Sweets is reunited with his current family as will become evident in this chapter...

**Fear Herself: **Sorry if my fics are keeping you up, but I'm glad that you are enjoying anyway. :) As psychological aware as Sweets might be, I could picture him being angry and sad at losing his parents so close together. Being thrust into a whole new environment while recently becoming almost alone in the world would be difficult for anyone...We will have to decide on terms for disarmament, but have high hopes for a treaty. Good luck with school on your end.

**Blazing Rubellite: **Oh no problem. I've noticed that some readers tend to pop in and out of reviews at times. I'm glad you're still enjoying it, though. As for Sweets coming back soon, hmmm...

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 28

_At first all he could do was hold her._

_Lance thought that seeing his father had soothed away some of the pain that he had been carrying for years from losing both of his parents in so short of a time. But being here…in his mother's arms after years apart…he now had a more complete understanding of just how much he had missed the both of them._

_Upon reuniting with Carolyn, Lance had dropped to his knees and had hugged her tightly, trying to communicate his feelings with his embrace._

"_I missed you," he whispered as she ran her fingers through the curls of his hair. _

"_I missed you too, baby," Carolyn said gently. "I'm glad that we got to see each other again, if only for a moment, before you went back."_

"_Mom," Lance said as he broke off the embrace and settled down on his heels. "Before I go I need to say something."_

"_What is it?"_

"_I…I wanted a chance to say goodbye," the psychologist replied. "I didn't get a chance to do it before, so I wanted to tell you that now and say that I love you. And…I wanted to thank you."_

"_For what?" she asked. _

"_Thank you for finding me. For choosing me," Lance said. "That day that you came to the orphanage…I know that I wasn't anyone's first choice for a child, but you always made me feel like I was your first choice. Even on the day we met. Out of all those other children, you picked me….saved me. I can never thank you or love you enough for that."_

_As he finished, Carolyn drew him into her arms again, holding him with all her strength._

"_Oh baby, you're welcome," she said, tears lacing her voice. "But you chose me too. Remember? Lauren told me that you would hardly ever reach out to any of the adults you met, but you reached out to me."_

_Lance nodded slightly. He remembered how he had handed Carolyn a flower from the orphanage's garden to cheer her up because she had been crying at one point. Normally, he wouldn't interact with a stranger that much, but something in Carolyn's demeanor had told Lance that she was different that most of the adults who came there._

"_We found each other because it was meant to be," she continued. "From the moment you were born, you were always our child. It was just an unfortunate tragedy that you weren't a part of our lives sooner."_

_Carolyn kissed his temple and then let him go while tilting his chin up so he would look at her. _

"_And now, you have a new place where you belong," she told him. "You should go there now."_

_Lance got to his feet, his legs feeling strangely wobbly underneath him. He reached over and took one of each of his parents' hands into his own._

"_Mom, Dad…will I remember any of this?" he asked them. "Will I remember being here with you and everything we did?"_

"_Sadly, probably not in the strictest sense, no," David replied, shaking his head. "But even if you don't remember every word that was said, you will remember our being here and what it entailed. It will leave an impression, of that I'm sure."_

_Lance squeezed both of his parents' hands. _

"_Goodbye Mom and Dad," he choked out. "I love you."_

"_Goodbye sport," David said, letting go of his hand. "We love you too, and remember we will always be with you."_

"_Goodbye baby," Carolyn said as she released his other hand. "Take care of yourself, and know that we will be waiting for you when the time comes."_

_Lance nodded and began to blink hard as his vision became distorted and blurry. A strange sense of vertigo filled him, and he thought he was falling._

_Then everything became a silent darkness.

* * *

_

Peter blinked and managed to catch himself before he fell out of his chair. His persistent drowsiness of late was playing havoc on him today, and he rubbed his eyes as he tried to wake back up.

It had been two days since Booth had begun visiting, and he had added himself to the rotation of people keeping watch over Lance. As a result, Peter had a little more time to get some rest, but he soon found that sleep did not always come when he needed it to. His thoughts tended to keep him awake for long stretches of time. When the soldier wasn't thinking about Lance and the situation he was in, his mind would drift back to the people he had left behind in his unit.

Everyone had understood why Peter had left. His fellow soldiers, who had grown to respect him as a leader and care for him like a brother, knew how important family was to him, especially since he had so little to cling to nowadays. His superiors had understood due to the numerous sacrifices Peter had made in the service of his country and because of how vital he had been in several classified but critical missions in the past. All of them had openly and willingly gave him permission to leave so that he could tend to these personal matters.

None of that, however, could completely erase the feeling Peter had that he was abandoning them and his responsibilities somehow. Even the knowledge that he would return as soon as he could was enough to stop his mind from being troubled. Instead he would spent hours going over what he might be doing now if he wasn't sitting in a hospital room and would wonder if everything was being taken care of as it should. He had confidence in the people he worked with, but that never stopped him from wanting to oversee things…just to be extra sure that things would go well.

Plus, it did occur to the soldier that he could not stay with Lance indefinitely…at least not without heavy consequences. He knew that he was receiving generous treatment as a favor from people who felt they owed him, but he also knew that there would eventually be a limit to this generosity. Peter often worried that he would be forced to choose between taking care of his cousin and his continued military service.

He then sighed and patted Lance's forearm. Peter knew that he couldn't leave his cousin right now, not like this. Despite the toll this was all taking on his emotions and nerves, Peter was firm in his decision that he would stay until Lance woke up and was on his way to recovery.

Bored and wanting to escape his brooding, Peter picked up the remote for the television and turned it on, making sure to keep the sound low. He flipped through the channels mindlessly until he paused on some random talk show which had someone who called himself a "relationship expert" speaking as part of a panel.

Caught up in a perverse humor, Peter found himself chuckling at the convoluted and somewhat contradictory way the man explained his theories about why couples choose to cheat on each other.

"No wonder people have such a low opinion of your profession, Whiz Kid," he smirked. "What with idiots like these running around. This guy hasn't got a clue about relationships or how complex they can be. At least not the way you do from what you've told me about your friends."

Peter reached over to adjust some of the blankets on the bed and then jumped violently when he felt something touch his hand. He stood up and looked down to see Lance's fingers moving ever so slightly along the sheets. Peter leaned closer to him.

"Lance? Lance, can you hear me?" he asked. "It's Peter."

There was no response other than some additional movement of the psychologist's eyes moving underneath closed eyelids. Peter grabbed the call button and hit it several times all while watching his cousin carefully. He only looked up when a nurse finally appeared.

"Get Doctor Werner," Peter insisted. "Tell her that Doctor Sweets is starting to wake up." The nurse nodded and took off. The soldier then went back to focusing on the figure in the bed.

"Lance," he said, taking the therapist's hand into his. "Let me know if you can hear me. If you can, squeeze my hand, all right?"

For a moment, Lance was still again, and Peter hung his head, frustrated. But then he felt it, the barest of movement as Lance's fingers tried to grasp his own. The grip was extremely weak and almost imperceptible, but it was there. Peter felt his eyes water up.

"Good job, Whiz Kid, good job," he murmured. "Now, you think you can open up your eyes? Just try, Lance."

He continued to coax him even as Werner walked into the room. The doctor began to examine Lance.

"How long has he been conscious?" she asked.

"Only a few minutes," Peter replied. "He hasn't opened his eyes or spoken, but he did squeeze my hand. I'm pretty sure he can hear me."

Werner nodded and continued to check the psychologist's vitals. When she was done, she leaned close much like how Peter was now.

"Doctor Sweets, can you hear us?" she said. "I am Doctor Werner. You are in the hospital now, and I am treating you. Your cousin is here with us. If you can hear me and understand what I am saying, please squeeze your cousin's hand again."

The two of them waited quietly for almost a minute before they both saw the psychologist slowly close his fingers around Peter's again. They both smiled and released sighs of relief and joy.

"He's really awake," Peter grinned. "He's going to be ok now."

"It does look very encouraging," Werner replied. She still had her concerns, but chose to remain positive for now.

Just then they saw that Lance was starting to crack open his eyelids, bit by bit.

"That's it, Lance," Peter encouraged him. "Open your eyes."

Lance ended up opening his eyes almost halfway, but then stopped. The pupils began to move back and forth.

'_No…hurts…can't see…can't breathe….I don't want to….'_

The psychologist's eyes slid back shut, his head lolling to the side. Peter gripped his cousin's shoulder, starting to panic.

"Lance? Lance!"

"It's all right," Werner assured him as she checked on the therapist's condition again. "He's just fallen asleep. He's not slipping back into a coma."

"You mean he's…he's…."

"Believe me, this is normal," the doctor added. "Despite what you may have seen in movies, not everyone returns to full consciousness immediately after a prolonged period in a coma. There is often a lot of disorientation and weakness at first, especially after being through a trauma like the one Doctor Sweets had to endure."

Peter nodded in reply, unsure of his ability to speak while still keeping control of his emotions in this moment.

"I will need to run some more tests," Werner said as she started to leave the room. "Let me know if shows any other signs of regaining consciousness."

"I will. Thank you, Doctor," Peter mumbled.

After she left, Peter sat back down in his chair and watched his cousin for several minutes. A couple tears slid out of his eyes, and he allowed himself the release now that he was alone.

A short time later, Peter stood back up, and sniffed hard while wiping away any last trace of his tears off of his face. After he was able to get a hold of himself again, he walked over to the bed and gripped Lance's hand.

"I'll be right back," he told him. "There's something I need to do real quick."

Peter walked out into the hallway and toward one of the nearby lobbies. He took a couple of breaths and then pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial.

"Hello, Doctor Saroyan? It's Peter. You and the others should come to the hospital as soon as you can. No…it's nothing like that at all. Lance finally woke up."

* * *

A couple hours later, everyone had found a way to leave work and gather into a waiting room, anxiously looking forward for a chance to visit Sweets. Cam, Angela, and Hodgins sat together, grinning and giddy at the prospect of being able to see the psychologist wake up. Booth and Brennan sat off to the side, more somber than the others, but still longing to go visit the therapist. The last one to show up was Wyatt, who immediately went to confer with Werner. After another few minutes, Wyatt and Werner showed up to meet the others, all of whom rushed over to the two of them.

"Hey Doctor Werner, can we see him now?" Angela asked. "Has he said anything?"

"Ms. Montenegro…."

"Who is with him now?" Cam said. "Peter?"

"SSG Sweets is with him now, yes," the doctor answered. "But before you go see him, could I have a word with all of you?"

They looked at each other but then nodded, giving Werner their full attention.

"Doctor Sweets has come out of his coma, but he is not out of the woods yet," she continued. "He has yet to regain full consciousness even though he has opened his eyes and will squeeze your hand in response to things that are said to him. The fact remains, though, that we do not know the extent of the potential brain trauma he has experienced or if it will have any long-lasting effects."

Werner paused for a moment, letting her words sink in before continuing.

"Now, there is a good chance that Doctor Sweets was spared any sort of damage from the initial look of things, and could recover completely cognitively," she added. "But even if that is the case, that will not be the end of his hardships. He will still have to deal with the torture he suffered, and it will take a while for his body to get back to full strength. Plus, I'm certain that his injuries along with the manner in which he got them will make the healing process difficult."

"The manner?" Brennan said. "Injuries like broken bones tend to mend themselves in predictable patterns. It doesn't matter if the fractures were accidental or deliberate: they will heal the way they are designed to."

"Perhaps if I could step in here, Doctor?" Wyatt said.

"By all means," Werner said. "I'm going to go check again on Doctor Sweets' condition. I will be in his room when you are ready to see him."

Werner walked away, and Wyatt moved to stand toward the center in front of the rest of them.

"Now listen, you all heard what Doctor Werner had to say, and you all know how Doctor Sweets ended up in this terrible predicament," Wyatt said. "I can tell you after studying Doctor Sweets' profile of Jensen and going over this case with Agent Booth and Agent Perotta that what the young man is facing goes well beyond just the physical injuries that were inflicted on him. This is also about psychological torture."

The chef began to pace back and forth while maintaining his gaze on the group.

"And, as horrific as the physical wounds are, the psychological ones are sure to be just as if not more damaging," he said. "Recovery is likely to be fraught with peril. Worst of all, it is likely that Doctor Sweets will resist efforts to treat him."

"Why?" Brennan asked. "Won't he want us to help him?"

"Oh he most certainly will," Wyatt nodded. "In fact he will desperately want and need your assistance. But that wretched person who tortured him probably planted many twisted and self-destructive ideas about himself and you lot into Doctor Sweets' mind. Caution must be exercised as we discover the extent of all this. But one thing in particular is of vital importance."

"Which is?" Cam asked.

"Before any of you go there to visit him, I need to know how committed each of you are to his recovery," Wyatt said, his tone serious. "As I've already said, there is likely to be resistance on Doctor Sweets' part that will have to be overcome. He may push away, lash out, withdraw inward…or in other words, he will be very much unlike his usual self at times. I should warn you now that it will not be easy to watch or experience. But if you start caring for him, and then shy away due to your own discomfort, it will be severely damaging and will re-enforce the lies Jensen probably fed him: that he is somehow unworthy and deserves to be alone."

Wyatt stopped and drew himself up to his full height, giving each of them a stern, piercing stare.

"As his advocate, I cannot allow that sort of damage if I can prevent it," he said. "So I need to know from you: are you willing to stand by him and do what is necessary to help him recover?"

There was a loaded silence as the former psychiatrist's words registered with all of them. That silence was broken a moment later by Booth walking straight up to Wyatt and looking him in the eye.

"I am," Booth said. "I will." Wyatt gave him a slight smile, knowing that no more needed to be said on the agent's part.

"I am too," Brennan said, less than a second later as she moved to stand beside Booth.

"So are we," Angela said, as she and Hodgins moved forward, hand-in-hand and with Hodgins nodding in agreement.

"We all are, of course," Cam said, her eyes shining with determination. "Doctor Sweets is one of us. We will not abandon him."

"Excellent," Wyatt beamed at them. He had been confident that they would answer this way, but happy to see that they were fully aware of their own resolve.

"Now then, I think that this is a good time to visit our young friend," the chef said, gesturing down the hall.


	29. Chapter 29

Author's Note: Next chapter. I know I've been neglecting this one a bit and I hope to remedy that over the next two weeks.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Rankor01: **I've often thought that the affection Wyatt shows toward Sweets went beyond professional courtesy, as demonstrated by the way he seems to be carefully "encouraging" the bond between him and B&B. I doubt that is just about maintaining a therapeutic relationship between the three of them...I think you will find that your prediction about the rest of the team needing to support each other during this was spot on after reading this chapter...

**Peanutmeg: **Sadly, my semester seems to be only getting more intense close to the end. Oh well...Anyway, glad you enjoyed the chapter. Unfortunately, as far as Sweets goes, his struggles are only just beginning...

**TheTenthDoctorForever: **Thanks for the review. :) Yes, I wasn't going to let him languish in a coma forever. It may seem odd for me to say at times, but he is my favorite character, and I just could not write that kind of ending for him. But as I've said, it's not going to be a completely smooth recovery.

**Lives in the now: **Well it's true that this story is starting to wind down, but I'll confess that I'm still working out how and at what point I want to end it to set up for the sequel I am planning. I am holding off a bit on that because I want to see how the rest of this season plays out for a variety of reasons. And you will get your wish this chapter, but it might not go the way you may think it will...

**D: **I agree that Booth would have the best insight into what Sweets went through and is best suited to help him work through a lot of his thoughts and feelings about all this. Although, there will be some surprising (or not surprising considering their personalities) insight shown from the others as well...For someone like Sweets who has in many ways been a pretty closed person (as seen by how little the others knew of his past), it will be hard to for him to not push everyone away, and it will be difficult for those on the receiving end. But then again, I often think that they all have insight into the idea that really loving or caring for someone involves being supportive even when the other person is at their most "unlovable" or darkest state...I also agree with your thought that Peter will be reluctant to leave Sweets until he's sure about the people he's leaving him with, thus why he seems to be a bit wary of them and checking to see if they are as committed and supportive as they say they will be...

**Fearlee: **Sorry, sorry. I was hoping to update sooner than this, but life managed to get in the way. I can tell you that the next update will not take nearly as long. Also, you will get your wish in this chapter...but I'm not sure how you'll feel at the end.

**Abandon-Morality: **I'll admit to feeling the need to really play around and explore many nuances in my work. Thus, my fics do tend to be pretty long. Even my one-shots tend to clock in at over 2,000 words. :) But we are definitely moving on to a new stage in this story that is leading toward the end...hopefully you'll enjoy the rest of the ride along the way.

**Seletua: **Thank you!. :) I know you've been following my work from the earliest days I joined this site, so it's good to see that you're still enjoying my stories. The sequel is in the planning stages right now, but as I mentioned earlier, I'm holding off on it until the end of this season for a variety of reasons. If it happens though, it will start up **very** soon after this story ends, so there will not be a long wait. Oh and by the way, love the kitty face. :)

**Blazing Rubellite: **Thanks again. I had starting thinking about this story as a possibility way back when I was writing Year Two for my THotF fic since I was intrigued by the idea of Andrew running into the Jeffersonian bunch, so I'm really happy about the way it's turning out and the response it has been getting. Andrew Jensen will probably end up being one of the worst villains I've ever written...

**NCISMcAbbyISthebest: **Glad that you were able to catch up. Thanks for all the reviews. :D Sorry that I wasn't able to update sooner, but I hope this chapter (and the next one which will be coming soon) will make up for that...And yes, I find that Andrew does have a way of rendering people unable to form words to describe just how evil he is...

**Yue-Ryo:** Well it did take a while, but here is that update. :) I'm glad that you also enjoyed The Narrow of the Margin. That is still among my favorites for things I've written. I hope you enjoy the rest of this and my future works as well.

**Lunarweather: **Sorry, I get so busy sometimes with my studies, I sometimes fall behind in my updating. But don't worry, I always make sure to go back and finish every story I start...Yes, I'll confess that that chapter you mentioned was a hard one to write. I always pictured the idea that David planted in Sweets about being his father was something that was pretty important to Sweets as he grew up and to "surrender" that inviolable belief and bond would hurt him in a very deep way...Haha, well yes I am a psych student, and that does give me some insight to work with in crafting characters like Andrew and working with inner dialogue. But if you can believe this, Sweets is actually my favorite character...It just doesn't seem like it at times, as my regular readers will tell you. :) I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 29

Everyone slowly made their way toward Sweets' room, stopping just short of the doorway when they arrived. From there they could see Peter still sitting beside the bed while Werner was tending to the psychologist. By now, the oxygen mask had been removed and there was only a set of tubes in the therapist's nose feeding him air. After another couple of moments, the doctor came out to meet them.

"You can go ahead and see him now," she told them. "But I do ask that you limit your visit to one or two people at a time. Everything is looking good as far as his recovery from his coma goes, but I don't want to overwhelm him right now."

"Is there anything we should look out for?" Brennan asked.

"Well, he might be in some pain when he wakes up," Werner said. "Let one of the nurses know if that's the case, and I'll make sure he's given something for it. Otherwise, just encourage him to interact with you in some way. We need to see how well he's recovered from his coma so anything that will get him to open his eyes and speak to you are good. I just ask that you try to keep him as calm as possible."

"Thank you, Doctor," Wyatt nodded. Werner nodded back at him and left to talk to some of the nurses on staff. Everyone else moved closer to the door, all of them wanting to go in, but unsure of who should get to go in first. Eventually, Brennan decided to take the initiative and walked into Sweets' room.

"Doctor Brennan," Peter smiled as she walked in. "It's good to see you…to see all of you. I'm sure Lance will be happy that you're here." The soldier then turned back toward the bed and took his cousin's hand back into his.

"Lance, your friends are here," he told Sweets.

"Doctor Sweets? Can you hear me?" Brennan asked as she moved closer to Sweets' bedside. "It's me...Temperance Brennan."

At first there was no response from the figure in the bed, but then suddenly Sweets' eyes opened wide, and he began to look around.

"That's it," Peter said, squeezing the psychologist's hand. "You're doing great."

Out in the hallway, the others were watching Sweets open his eyes and soon everyone was smiling with relief.

But those smiles soon dissipated as they watched the therapist begin to tremble, his hands clutching at the sheets and his cousin's hand. Sweets' lips parted, and Peter leaned close so that he could hear what he was saying, the psychologist's voice not much more than a hoarse whisper.

"Hurts," Sweets gasped out. Peter tightened his grip on his cousin's hand and began to hit the nurse's call button.

"It's going to be ok, Lance," he assured him. "We'll get you something for the pain. Just try and relax."

When the nurse did not show up within a couple minutes, Peter stood up and began to leave, but Sweets clung to his hand.

"Don't," the psychologist whispered, his eyes begging. Brennan took his other hand into hers.

"Hey, it's all right," Peter murmured. "I'm just going to go get a nurse. I'll right back."

"Sweets, I will stay with you until your cousin returns," Brennan assured him, pulling another chair over so she could sit beside him.

"See, it'll be fine," the soldier said. "I'll be back in a minute." He gave Sweets' hand one last squeeze before letting go and heading out into the hallway. Brennan leaned closer toward the bed.

"I am very happy that you have recovered from your coma," she said gently. "I've…I've missed you."

Sweets stared at her, his expression confused. His vision had been somewhat blurry ever since he woken up, and he could mostly make out shapes with only occasional clearer images. But as she held his hand and continued to look down at him, tears of joy starting to dance about in her eyes, recognition slowly made its way onto the psychologist's features.

'_It's…It's Brennan,'_ he thought silently. '_What is she doing here? Wait…Peter was here a moment ago…I must be in a hospital. But…why am I in so much pain? And where is Andrew?'_

Thinking of Andrew made Sweets start to panic. The idea that he was still out there somewhere, even if he was in custody, filled him with terror. He began to tremble even more and gripped the anthropologist's hands as tightly as he could.

Brennan noticed that the psychologist's breathing was becoming faster and shallower and then looked over at the monitors and saw that Sweets' heart rate was starting to go up. Remembering what Werner had said about keeping Sweets calm, she curled her fingers around his and rubbed his forearm with her other hand.

"Sweets, it's all right," she soothed. "You're safe in this hospital, and the doctors here are quite skilled. They will make sure that you recover fully. And everyone else is here to see you, so you won't be alone."

Sweets listened to her words, his mind grappling to make sense out of them while in the grip of pain, fear and confusion. But even more than the meanings of the words, it was her tone that the therapist focused on. It was soft, reassuring and kind. As the agony from his still healing injuries continued to course through his body, Sweets was grateful for her comforting presence.

'_You experimented on us.'_

Sweets blinked, moisture still clinging to his eyelashes. As he watched Brennan sit there and continue to hold his hand, those angry words had sprung into his mind with accompanying memories. To this day, the psychologist had held onto the guilt he had felt for his petty and selfish actions that he had committed during Booth's faked assassination and at the climax of the Gormogon case, and now he found that this same guilt was filling him with dread.

'_Still feel like "helping people" Lance?' _Andrew's voice sneered inside his head. '_Like the way you "helped" her? _

'_No, I didn't…I didn't mean to…I didn't mean to hurt her,'_ Sweets thought. '_I was just….'_

'_Just what, Lance?' _the voice continued. '_She doesn't believe in you or what you do. You know that. She's told you many times herself.'_

'_I don't care how young you are, I still don't believe in psychology.'_

'_I still hate psychology.'_

'_It's just guesswork, Booth.'_

Tears finally spilled forth from Sweets' eyes as he replayed every time Brennan rejected him or his work.

'_A partner…I lost a partner, Sweets.'_

That memory reinforced the reality that Sweets had been avoiding since the onset of his coma.

'_Booth's gone…He got killed trying to save me,'_ he reminded himself. '_It's my fault that he's gone, and now Brennan….'_

"I'm sorry," Sweets choked out. "I'm sorry." He then began to pull his hand away from hers.

"What?" Brennan asked, confused. "Sweets? What is wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. He finally yanked his hand away and balled up his fingers into the sheets.

'_She doesn't care about your apology, Lance,' _Andrew's voice taunted. '_Thanks to you her partner's gone. You don't help people…you infect them. You spread out like slow poison…destroying everything you touch.'_

Tears clouded Sweets' vision even more, drowning out most of what he saw around him. Just then Peter returned with a nurse close behind him.

"What's going on?" he demanded upon seeing the state the psychologist was in.

"I don't know," Brennan replied. "He seemed fine at first, but then he grew increasingly agitated. Do you think I said the wrong things to him?"

Peter shook his head and took Sweets' hand back into his. He doubted that his cousin's current state had much to do with anything she said.

"I'm sorry," Sweets croaked out again.

"I think he's apologizing to you," Peter said to her.

"I…I don't know why," Brennan said, astonished. The soldier looked back down at Sweets and winced at the pain and tears that were lighting up the therapist's eyes.

'_Make it stop…make it stop, please,' _Sweets begged silently. Soon movement caught his eye and he looked over to see a figure moving closer to him, a syringe in their hand.

'_This will make you forget about the pain for a while.'_

Sweets' eyes grew wide at the sight of the nurse advancing toward his IV and began to thrash about feebly.

"No please, no more," he gasped.

"Lance, it's ok," Peter said, squeezing his hand. "She's just going to give you something for the pain."

But the psychologist didn't seem to hear him and continued to whimper and shrink away. In his weakened condition, he wasn't able to do much more than flop his limbs about helplessly, but then he started to reach for the IV line to yank it out. Peter grabbed Sweets' other hand and then gently but firmly pinned the therapist's arms down onto the bed.

"Peter," Sweets sobbed. "Please…please don't let him…."

Peter felt tears of his own prick at his eyes. It was clear now that Sweets was scared and not thinking straight and it was painful to watch.

"Listen to me, Lance," he murmured. "You're in the hospital, and that is not Andrew. That's a nurse trying to give you something for your pain. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise. Please, just calm down now."

Sweets stopped struggling and let the nurse administer the medicine. He then stared up at Peter for a moment before glancing back over at Brennan, who by this point had tears of her own in her eyes.

'_A partner…I lost a partner….'_

'_She looks so sad…If Booth was here, he could take care of her,' _the psychologist thought. '_But now that will never happen…if I hadn't come along she would…they would have….'_

Back in the hallway, the others stood silent in shock as they watched the scene in the room. Seeing the sheer terror on Sweets' face and the way he kept sobbing had erased all of the joy they had felt at seeing him come out of his coma. Both Cam and Angela had started to cry, and Hodgins put his arms around Angela, a somber looked etched into his features. Wyatt was observing everything closely while sadly shaking his head.

Booth had stood off to the side, watching everything while continuing to grind his jaw. Unable to just stand by and watch this scene any more, he started to march into the room.

"Agent Booth, I don't know if this is…" Wyatt had started to call out after him, but Booth did not hesitate in his stride and walked right in. He went straight for the bed, and Sweets' head jerked toward the sound and movement from him.

"Sweets," he said warmly as he moved to stand next to Brennan. "It's going to be ok. Just relax, all right?"

The psychologist stared straight at him, but Booth was dismayed to see the response his presence generated from him. Sweets grew even paler than he was before, and his tears increased along with his heart rate.

"I'm getting Doctor Werner," the nurse said, racing out of the room. Sweets continued to gape at the agent.

'_No…it's not real….Booth's dead. Andrew killed him. I saw the body.'_

'_Meddling shrink…lying, manipulative, selfish…'_

Sweets screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of Andrew's voice, but it continued to drone on inside his head.

'_It's not real,' _he told himself. '_That's not Booth…The pain….If…if he's not here, maybe none of them are…I'm just hallucinating again…That needle…Andrew gave me more of…of whatever he's been pumping into me…He's still got me…It's never going to end….'_

The psychologist continued to panic and let out a stream of inarticulate cries. Peter leaned closer to the bed and clasped his cousin's shoulders.

"Lance? Don't be afraid," he told him. "We're right here with you. It's over now, I promise."

But Peter's voice only registered as a faint echo in the psychologist's mind. Right now, all he could hear was Andrew's voice. That and the anticipation of some new torture filled his heart with terror.

'_You'll never be rid of me, Lance,' _Andrew's voice sniggered. '_I'll be seeing you again…soon. And then we'll have some more fun together.'_

Sweets let out one last strangled cry before collapsing back against the bed, his eyes rolling back into his head before they closed. Then he was still.

"I...I think he fainted," Peter said, looking over at Booth and Brennan. As he said this, Werner walked back into the room with the nurse.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave," she said.

"No," Peter insisted, narrowing his eyes. "You weren't here a moment ago; you didn't see how he was. Lance was petrified. I am not leaving him alone."

"I understand your concern," Werner said. "But I need to examine him so I can find out what is causing…."

"Doctor Werner," Wyatt said as he entered the room. "I was observing Doctor Sweets when he awoke, and I think I could provide some insight into what we are dealing with right now…and I have to agree with SSG Sweets that at least one familiar person should probably be in the room in case he wakes up again."

"All right, SSG Sweets can stay," the doctor conceded. "But I will have to ask everyone else to leave for now."

Booth and Brennan nodded and trudged out of the room. As they left, the nurse pulled the curtains shut to the room and closed the door. Cam, Angela and Hodgins walked over to meet them.

"Booth, Bren…what happened in there?" Angela asked tearfully.

"I…I don't know," Brennan responded. "Peter said that Sweets was apologizing to me for something."

"Do you know what it was about?" Cam asked.

"No," the anthropologist said. "I was talking to him…I thought I was being reassuring…But then he got so upset."

She looked over toward Booth for assistance, but at that moment, he was locked up in his own thoughts.

He had been disturbed at the way the psychologist had acted upon seeing the two of them and was beginning to think there was a much darker meaning behind it.

'_It's…it's as if he's still re-living whatever he went through with Jensen,' _he thought to himself. '_Like that was all he could see…And the way he looked at Bones….Almost as if he was begging for her forgiveness so she wouldn't hurt him. Probably much like how Jensen made him beg for mercy.'_

Booth listened to the others talk over what happened half-heartedly while continuing to brood over what he had just seen.

'_Sweets…he's not relieved to see us. He's terrified of what we'll do to him…That is if he even has a grip on reality at this point. Just what did Jensen plant into his brain? And how are we going to convince him that it's not true?'_

The agent rubbed his eyes and straightened his posture in preparation to re-join the others. He could tell that Brennan was upset and would need to talk to him about what happened. Plus, he was sure that the others would want his support as they waited for Wyatt and Werner to tell them what was going on.

Booth sighed and felt a weight inside him pressing down. He was still committed to helping Sweets, but now it appeared to be an even more formidable task than he had previously considered.

He just hoped that all of them had the strength for what lie ahead.


	30. Chapter 30

Author's Note: Next chapter. I'm not sure if I will be able to keep up this pace of updates over the next two weeks with finals rapidly approaching, but I hope to get some extra writing time in as the semester ends. Now it's summer that I worry about...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lunarweather: **You are right about that. As much as I love to spend time getting into the minds of the characters of Bones, it can be hard to work through the darker material in my work. Difficult, but rewarding. And yes, I find it totally believable that Sweets would have a tenuous grip on reality at first after going through something like that...

**Daryl Ann: **I'm glad that you're still enjoying it. :) I could easily see all of them wanting to help, but not knowing what to do since dealing with traumas and emotional issues tend to be what they rely on Sweets for. Now that the tables are turned, it becomes a problem...

**Writerchick786: **Sadly my semester ends in May and the next one starts in May. :( I am really looking forward to transferring just because things will be a little easier for me for a while...And yes, I never make things that easy. :) I consider all the characters of Bones to be complicated people and thus would have complicated problems in their lives. And kudos for your love of the Sweets/Cam friendship. I've been a supporter of that for a while and wish they would do more of it on the show...Haha, well I've never watched Angel, so that particular fic idea would be hard for me to do. :) In order for me to write fic, I really have to know a show from the inside out, thus why I tend to be pretty limited right now on the range of fandoms I write for. Still, love the concepts you've been coming up with. :D

**Abandon-Morality: **Well I was able to update a little faster this time, so hopefully this will help. Thanks for the review though.

**D: **No I agree that in order for Sweets to begin any sort of real healing, he will have to find out that Booth is still alive. And you are also correct in thinking that Peter will play an important role with the others acting as support for their efforts. But then again, I also picture each of them bringing something unique to the table to help out in this process.

**Rankor01:** I agree that it is a difficult situation on all fronts simply because there are issues between them that I doubt that the three of them have discussed. We both know how reluctant B&B are to discuss issues between the two of them. If anything, Sweets can often be even more reluctant to broach personal things about himself. I'm pretty sure that the only times he's been willing to share about himself was when he needed advice involving Daisy and as a result a lot remains unspoken between him and B&B. I do wish they would have tackled some of the issues I plan on bringing up on the show, but I suppose that's the beauty of fanfic. :) ...Yes, when I first introduced Peter, I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted him as a permanent character, but then I realized that Sweets needs at least one completely secure bond in his life...at least, I'd like to think it's there...

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. I will try to update as much as possible, but we both know how college/university life is. As I've mentioned before, things will not stop being complicated even though Sweets has woken up. Now the real work begins...Hope you enjoy the beginning of that in this chapter.

**Lives in the now: **I've always rolled my eyes at shows where someone just snaps right out of a coma and can pick up where they left off. Thus why I agree with you that it makes sense that Sweets would have some disorientation after waking up...especially given the trauma he just went through. You can expect lots more time spent in these characters' head before this is through. :)

**NCISMcAbbyISthebest: **Thanks. Luckily this time there wasn't such a long gap between updates. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. As for Sweets discovering the truth...

**Fearlee: **Sorry...there are fluffier moments on the horizon, but recovery will not be an easy road. Thankfully you won't have to wait too long this time for the next update.

**Scarlet2009: **Yep, actually lots more to come. :) Plus, I'm still hashing out the idea of a sequel to this, so expect more in the future. I hope you enjoy the rest of it.

**Blazing Rubellite: **Being in a coma, Sweets hasn't really had a chance to find out that Booth is still alive...and then there's all the horrible things Andrew tormented him with...But yes, there will be a lot of talking between him and the others in these upcoming chapters...Hopefully those chapters will be coming in a timely manner...we'll see.

**Ranchan-akari: **I can relate to that. When I first started to watch Bones, I swiftly grew to enjoy all the characters, but I became truly fascinated with Sweets. Like you, I've often wondered why he gets so little love from the fan community at times. Granted, he's a flawed character, but to me that's part of the appeal. Besides, all of them have their share of flaws if you think about it, so why single him out? When I started looking for fic about him, I noticed that there was very little written in comparison to Bones fic overall, thus why I eventually decided to join and begin building my own library. I hope you enjoy my other works as well. :)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 30

Almost three hours later, Wyatt and Werner came back out to the waiting room where everyone had moved to. Both of them had pained expressions on their faces, and the others rose to their feet to meet them.

"He's stable again," Werner informed them. "He did give himself a couple new bruises and tore a few of his stitches, but we took care of them, and he should be fine."

"Is he still in pain?" Brennan asked haltingly.

"No. Right now he's asleep," Werner assured her. "We're giving him only mild doses of painkiller for now. We're hoping that it will take enough of the edge off the pain so that we don't have to medicate him to the point where he might not be able to think clearly. Also, despite this setback, it's looking like he's becoming more coherent every time he regains consciousness. He should be better able to interact with all of you the next time he fully awakens."

"Are you sure about that?" Cam asked. "Because this last time…that did not seem to be the case at all."

"I think I should refer you to Doctor Wyatt at this point," Werner said, stepping aside. The chef nodded and moved to face them, his expression stricken.

"As Doctor Werner just explained, some of what we saw a little while ago was pain and the inevitable confusion when waking from a coma acting on Doctor Sweets' mental state," he stated.

"Only some?" Hodgins asked, swallowing hard.

"I'm afraid so, yes," the chef replied sadly. "Another larger part of it was a glimpse into the kinds of miseries Jensen inflicted onto him."

"Gordon, Gordon…is he afraid of us?" Booth said quietly. The others immediately shifted their gazes toward the agent, all of them sickened at the idea that he could be right.

"I don't think so, no. Not in the way you may be thinking," Wyatt replied. "In my humble opinion, Doctor Sweets is not scared of you lot in the sense that he thinks you will harm him the way Jensen did. No, what he's afraid of is less direct and much more insidious than that."

"What do you mean?" Angela asked.

"Well let's start with his reaction to the lovely Doctor Brennan for example," Wyatt said, tilting his head toward the anthropologist. "You all observed that he was not unhappy to see her at first. In fact, she seemed to have a sort of calming effect on him initially when SSG Sweets had to leave for a few minutes."

"But he wasn't happy to see me," Brennan interjected. "He was very upset."

"Ah, but that was probably not because of anything you did or said," Wyatt countered. "This had more to do with the methods Jensen used and the things he tortured him into believing. I believe that he was apologizing for some kind of wrong he might have committed against you in the past. He is very fond of you, after all."

"What? You mean he's trying to repent somehow for things he did before?" she asked.

"In a twisted sort of way, yes," the chef nodded. "I imagine that Jensen tapped into his insecurities in relation to all of you and manipulated them in such a way to make him feel isolated and uncared for. As a result, any sort of transgression his memories can drag up act as a sort of "proof" of his unworthiness."

"Was that the case with me too?" Booth asked, dreading the answer.

"In a way, it probably was," Wyatt said. "We both know the fraud that Jensen has perpetrated against Doctor Sweets. Your supposed fate represented the ultimate transgression on his part."

"What does he mean?" Brennan asked, leaning toward Booth.

"The body, Bones. Dan Barlow's body," the agent replied. "Remember how we found all that stuff with it. Jensen used all that to pass it off as me."

"Oh God…that's …that's sick," Angela said, starting to cry again. Hodgins took her into his arms, his expression stony with barely repressed anger.

"So when Booth went in there a while ago," Cam said, fighting to hold back tears of her own. "Sweets…he thought…he was…."

"It was probably a great shock to him to see Agent Booth, yes," Wyatt responded. "A shock he wasn't ready to handle, I'm afraid."

Wyatt watched as Booth ducked his head to the side and he immediately walked over to him.

"You mustn't berate yourself," the chef told him. "All we can do at this point is grope about in the dark as we discover the extent of that odious man's abuse. There is no way to know ahead of time in these early stages what the wrong moves are. Do not feel any sort of guilt for wanting to help."

Booth nodded, and then Wyatt turned back toward the rest of them.

"In short, it seems that Jensen made it his mission to convince Doctor Sweets to not only doubt his worthiness, but also his friendship with each of you. Any sort of disagreement, mistake or hurt feelings from the past will be used to fortify this idea…Although right now, the most pressing problem is his belief that Agent Booth is dead and his grief over its effect on all of you."

"What should we do?" Brennan asked.

"First and foremost, we will need to give him a little time to adjust to the idea that he is safe and under no threat from Jensen any longer," Wyatt answered. "SSG Sweets is with him now, and I believe that it would be best if he interacted with Doctor Sweets first. His cousin knows him best and there is a familial bond there that I suspect Jensen was not able to exploit. As Doctor Sweets grows more lucid and better able to process his surroundings, we can start with informing him that Agent Booth is alive and well. But beyond that, it is paramount not to rush things. Let him ask questions about the current situation and then answer them."

"What about that other stuff you said?" Angela asked. "About him feeling guilty and needing to make up for things? Should we just tell him that all's forgiven?"

"Actually, I would not endorse that approach," the chef said. "While I am certain that you lot hold no ill will and have already let any sort of mistakes go a long time ago, it will not be that simple for Doctor Sweets. Especially in his current state of mind. I would encourage you instead to talk things out with him. If he brings up a past wrong, acknowledge it, discuss and then let it go with grace and forgiveness. Do not dismiss his concerns, and let him play a hand in his absolution. It will strengthen the idea that he 'deserves' your friendship while also demonstrating to him that you believe that your friendship with him is far more important than any prior mistakes."

"Should we try to get him to talk about what happened?" Cam asked. "I mean, he'll need to, right?"

"He will," Wyatt nodded. "But I would not press him to talk at this juncture. If he wants to talk, by all means, be attentive and supportive, but do not demand any sort of account from him if he is not offering it….Sadly, I doubt very much that Doctor Sweets will broach that subject willingly for quite a while anyway, even though eventually it will become an issue. Don't be surprised if he becomes extremely closed off and evasive."

"Gordon Gordon is he…will he get better?" Booth wondered.

"It will not be easy, but Doctor Sweets is a strong man," the former psychiatrist replied. "Much stronger than many people, including himself, give him credit for. Plus, he has all of you to help him. Keeping all of these factors in mind, I'd say his chances for recovery are very good."

"I will make sure to continue to extend your visiting hour so that you can spend time with him," Werner added. "But again, I will have to ask that you try to keep him as calm as possible. His body is still recovering and it can't take too much stress and exertion right now. Also, I do have one other request."

"Which is?" Brennan asked.

"I'm concerned about some of our test results which showed signs of malnutrition and exhaustion," the doctor said. "From the look of things, he hasn't been eating or sleeping properly for a while, and now his recent injuries and coma have weakened him further. I'm worried that he won't have the strength to fight off infections including the pleural infection that he still has some traces of. Anything you can do to encourage him to get plenty of rest and eat substantive meals would be very helpful."

"We will do what we can," Cam replied.

"I appreciate that," Werner said. "And if I might say this: I think all of you have been wonderful during this whole thing. I've rarely seen a group of friends so dedicated to helping one of their own like this. I wish all of my patients had such caring people in their lives."

"Thank you," Brennan said, speaking for all of them. Werner nodded and left to attend to her patients.

"What should we do now?" Hodgins asked. "Should we put off visiting him?"

"Only for about a day at the very most," Wyatt responded, noting his disappointed tone. "I would like for him to have the chance to get acclimated to his current surroundings. After that, by all means, resume your frequent visitation."

Wyatt watched as everyone's face fell in response to his words. He didn't enjoy telling them this, but he also knew that he had to focus on the long term. Slow and careful were of supreme importance right now and at this moment he knew that he needed to make sure Sweets was grounded in reality before trying to tackle any of his other issues. Wyatt was certain that that would be easier to accomplish if he mainly interacted with his cousin who the chef suspected reminded the therapist of his father in some small way.

Still there was one matter that he needed to address right now.

"Agent Booth, may I speak to you in private for a moment?" Wyatt asked.

"Sure," Booth shrugged. The two of them walked a short distance away from the others.

"I want to let Doctor Sweets in on Jensen's deception concerning you as soon as possible," the chef told him. "I am convinced that this is causing a tremendous amount of grief for him, and I worry that recovery won't be possible until he is alleviated of that."

"I understand," the agent said. "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

Back in the psychologist's room, both Sweets and Peter were asleep. A day had passed since Sweets had awoken into a confused and panicked state, and he had not woken up since then. Peter had grown weary during his vigil and was trying to get some rest while still in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. It wasn't a comfortable position to be sleeping in, but years spent in the Army had trained him to get whatever rest he could in almost any sort of conditions. As a result there was little sound or movement other the steady workings of the monitors and an occasional visit from a nurse. None of that was sufficient though to break up the stillness of the room.

It was in this sterile quiet that Sweets woke up again.

He started to open his eyes slowly, but was reluctant to do so. The therapist had some vague memories of a series of horrifying experiences greeting him the last time he was conscious.

'_What is that sound?' _he wondered. '_Am I still with Andrew? Was all that other stuff: being with Mom and Dad, seeing my cousin and my…my co-workers….was all of that a dream?'_

A large part of Sweets dreaded finding out the answers to these questions, but his desire to know more about his current surroundings eventually won out, and he ended up opening his eyes completely.

He saw that he was lying in a bed again, but this time he wasn't restrained or in a windowless, darkened room. He glanced over at the machines near his bed and at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling and figured that he was in a hospital.

Sweets tried to shift around into a more comfortable position in the bed and discovered that he had an IV attached to his body along with other tubes and wires. The pain coursing through his body was now mainly a dull ache. It was bothersome, but it was far from overwhelming, and he was grateful for that. He did notice, however, that even the small amount of movement used to get more settled in his bed had left him feeling weak and tired.

The psychologist then looked over to see his cousin resting in a chair beside his bed.

"Peter," he croaked, his throat parched and longing for water. The soldier immediately stirred and opened his eyes.

"Hey Whiz Kid, how are you feeling?" Peter smiled at him.

"Thirsty," Sweets slurred out. Peter nodded and reached over for a pitcher of water that was sitting on a nearby stand. After pouring some water into a paper cup and helping his cousin take it in, Peter sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Sweets asked, his expression quizzical. "I thought you were still in Germany."

"I got sent back to the States a couple months ago. Remember?" Peter replied. "Your friend, Wyatt called me and told me what was going on, so I called in a few favors, and here I am. What I want to know is why you didn't call me yourself. You know that I would have been here even sooner if you had."

"I…I didn't want to get you involved," Sweets said, tears filling his eyes again. "Andrew kept making threats…I didn't want…."

"I can take care of myself," Peter insisted. "You know that. You shouldn't have left me out of the loop."

Peter sighed and began to clasp Sweets' shoulder.

"But hey, don't worry about that too much right now," the soldier said. "I'm just grateful that we were able to find you before it was too late. You know, you had us worried there for a while."

"How long?" Sweets hiccuped, his throat becoming tight.

"You were out for about two weeks," Peter told him as he rubbed his shoulder. Sweets' eyes widened at this news. He was tempted to let himself break down and bury himself into his blankets, but there was one last thing he had to know about.

"Andrew?" the psychologist gulped, fear bleeding into his voice.

At that Peter frowned. He remembered Wyatt's instructions to be careful about how much to tell his cousin at first, but he also remembered that the chef told him to use his best judgment in regards to the therapist.

'_Lance has had to worry about him for far too long,' _he thought. '_It's time to put that issue to rest for good.'_

"He's dead, Lance," Peter told him. "When we found him, he was resisting arrest, and he pointed a gun at us. There was no choice but to shoot him. I saw him take a bullet between the eyes…He will never bother you or anyone else ever again."

Sweets could not hide the shock this news brought on off his face. Ever since he was a child, a part of him had lived in fear that Andrew would get to him and torment him, just like he had ended up doing recently. Not even his parents were able to completely wipe away that fear, and it still lurked in the back of his mind as he grew into adulthood. The idea that Andrew was now dead and gone created a lot of confused feelings.

"Hey, I know that's a lot to take in," Peter said, noticing the agitation in Sweets' features. "I just wanted you to know that you're safe now and that you don't have to worry about him. We don't have to talk anymore about it for now if you don't want to."

Sweets barely heard what his cousin said. All he knew was that he was being overwhelmed by everything that had happened recently, and he started to cry. He then tried to prop himself up with his elbows, but found himself too weak to sit completely up.

Peter sensed what his cousin wanted and gingerly helped him to sit up and then embraced him.

"It's all right," Peter assured him as Sweets cried into his shoulder. "It's over now."

The soldier didn't say anything more and simply let the therapist continue to weep while silently supporting him.

It scared Peter to see him so broken, and he prayed that Wyatt was right about both of them being able to cope.


	31. Chapter 31

Author's Note: Next chapter. This one came to me at a good pace, but the next one is being difficult. Plus, finals start tomorrow in my classes and will continue for the next two weeks. So it will be a little while before I can update this fic again. Sorry. :(

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated. :D

**Writerchick786: **Thanks. :) I love to mix angst with fluffier moments since I sort of have a weakness for both...As to how many chapters are left? Well, I don't like to name a specific number when I'm writing one of my longer fics just because I often tend to exceed the number I preset (as my long-time readers can tell you). But since I have a sequel in mind for this, I'm thinking that I have about 10 or so chapters left for this. We'll go with that for now. As for Peter, you have the benefit of seeing how he turned out later. I remember readers calling for blood when I first introduced him...but that was somewhat intentional on my part because I wanted Peter to have a more sibling like relationship with him...and siblings don't always get along. :)

**Peanutmeg: **These days writing is how I unwind from my studies, so that is how I find time to squeeze it in. The main problem I face these days is time because completing a chapter for any of my fics takes a while to do with writing, typing, rewriting, posting etc. Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying Wyatt. He is my favorite side character and has been sorely missed this season. :( I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

**Lives in the now: **And thank you for the review. :) Wyatt's amazing level of insight is what really drew me to his character on the show...along with his caring instincts. For all his eccentric yet affable front, he strikes me as someone who does care a great deal for everyone at the Jeffersonian. So it was a delight to include him in this fic.

**Ranchan-akari: **Peter has really grown on me too. :) I didn't want to overuse him by having him in all of my fics, so I'm really enjoying the chance to have him play such a big role in this one. And thank you for your comment on character voices. That is something I constantly strive for, so it's gratifying to know that others see them as IC as much as possible...I'm also hoping for an episode at some point to go into Sweets' past more. I know JFD is up for such an episode, and I think it would be cool if they took the basic idea from this fic (Sweets' biological parents showing up) into an episode because I think it would work well. Ah we can but dream...

**NCISMcAbbyISthebest: **Well the recovery will not be a smooth one, but it will happen. As for Daisy, no I don't have her in this one. I've sort of taken the route the writers on the show do at times where they sort of put her on the back-burner at times. I actually have an explanation for where she is in my head, but I'll go into that more in my sequel. Considering the plot and the directions I wanted to take it, I couldn't really think of a way to include her while still keeping her true to how she is written...and keeping people IC is a big thing for me so...there it is.

**D: **Thank you. :) I've always thought Wyatt's gift was the way that he was able to carefully nudge people into figuring out for themselves what they need to know and when a more direct approach is needed he manages to speak the language of each of the members of the Jeffersonian group. I worried about giving him such a large role in this fic at first, but now I know that I'll miss being able to use him more often once this fic and its sequel are over.

**Blazing Rubellite: **Glad you are enjoying my OC. I kind of wish Sweets had some relative that would show up on the show myself. I mean, I know his parents are gone, but there could still be some distant relative. Anyway, I'm glad you've been enjoying recent chapters and hope you like this one as well.

**Abandon-Morality: **Ah, no problem. I kind of feel the same frustrations myself when I can't update as often as I'd like. I will be really happy when this semester is over. I wanted to go a more positive route in the last chapter since this one will be ending on a slightly darker tone as you will see...

**Rankor01: **Yes, Peter will continue to play a big role in Sweets' recovery along with the others. And you are right: Andrew was not just trying to hurt Sweets physically, but mentally as well. His undeniable connection to Sweets added an all new element to it since he had found ways to break his will and spirit before as a child...He does know that Andrew is dead but as for Booth being alive...well that will be addressed in this chapter...

**Scarlet2009: **Yes, the physical healing has started and now the psychological healing will need to begin...I do wish they would do something like this on the show even though I know it would never happen. I'd settle for just having an episode deal with his biological parents at some point. I think it could make for a dramatic episode myself. Thanks again for the reviews. :D

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 31

A couple of hours later it was quiet in Sweets' room again. The psychologist ended up falling asleep after only a few minutes of weeping, and Peter carefully laid him back down and covered him with a blanket. He then settled back in his chair and continued to watch over him. He wanted to go back to sleep himself, but Peter couldn't stop thinking about the way his cousin kept begging him to stay even as Sweets became too drowsy to keep his eyes open.

The solider instead thought back to when he was a teenager and was just starting to get to know Lance. At various times, David and Carolyn had pulled him aside and shared a few select pieces of information about the difficulties their son had as he was growing up. There had been many sad moments of nightmares, depression and social awkwardness woven into their narratives, but what had always stood out in Peter's mind was the way that their patience and their love for Lance always shone through their words.

'_Uncle David and Aunt Carolyn put years of love and support into building Lance up after the first time he had been exposed to Andrew,' _he thought with a mixture of sorrow and rage. '_And now this piece of dirt comes back to tear down everything they had done.'_

Peter put his head into his hands as sorrow began to win out over his anger.

'_All that time…all that work…was it for nothing? How will Lance recover without his parents? I know his friends care…but do they really care that much? Do they care enough to really give of themselves and to sacrifice to make sure that Lance gets better?'_

The sound of footsteps made Peter lift his head and sit upright in his chair. He watched as Wyatt quietly walked in and moved a chair over to sit beside him.

"Lance is still asleep," Peter murmured, stretching a little. "I don't know if you should wake him though. He gets tired so easily right now."

"No, no, I'm sure he needs his rest," Wyatt said in a low voice. "What I need to do can wait a little while until he wakes up again."

"Good," Peter nodded, turning his gaze back toward the floor. "He…he seemed to know what was going on this last time when I talked to him. I told him about Andrew being dead, and he understood what I was telling him. I'm pretty sure you'll be able to really talk to him when he wakes up again."

"Excellent," the chef smiled. "But might I ask how you are holding up?"

"Me? I'm fine," Peter replied. "Don't worry about me. Worry about Lance. After all, you are his advocate."

"Oh believe me that is never far from my mind" Wyatt said. "It's one of the reasons why I inquired about your condition. Doctor Sweets needs you terribly right now…but what you are doing, caring for him like this, is no easy task. As I'm sure you're aware of by now."

Peter ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, defeat evident in his voice. "Do you want me to tell you what I think about watching the closest person I have to a little brother fall to pieces? Or how I feel about the fact that he's terrified of being left alone or that he cries himself to sleep? I hate it, all right? I can hardly stand to watch how this is tearing him apart, but that has no bearing on whether or not I'm going to continue to help him. You should know that by now."

Peter got up from his chair and marched over to the window. He stared at the sun shining outside, and placed his hand on the glass all while feeling not the least bit warmed by the light.

"Sometimes…sometimes I wonder if he's ever going to get better. Really better," the soldier said, curling the fingers of one hand into a fist. "And then I start to think about how I'll have to tell him at some point that I need to return to my unit…."

Peter stopped and pounded his fist against the wall, flinching for a moment at the idea that the dull thud might wake his cousin up.

"Who are you to ask me how I'm doing anyway?" Peter spat at Wyatt, making sure to keep his voice down. "Why aren't you keeping your focus where it belongs?"

"Perhaps you're right," Wyatt replied thoughtfully. "Perhaps I shouldn't 'split my focus' as it were."

Peter gave only a noncommittal grunt in reply and ended up slumping against the window. Wyatt continued to watch the soldier's weary posture and became concerned. He knew that it was best not to pry right now, but made a mental note to keep an eye on Peter's emotional state.

"No…please stop."

The cry from the bed interrupted Wyatt's and Peter's thoughts, and they turned toward Sweets. The psychologist's eyes were still closed, but he began to thrash about slightly.

"No don't… it's so cold…please…no more," Sweets slurred out. Peter immediately went over to the bed and gingerly took his cousin by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

"Lance, wake up," he told him. "You're having a nightmare. It's not real. Wake up now."

Sweets gasped as his eyes flew open and he shuddered. His breathing was still faster and labored, but it started to slow down as he took in the sight of his cousin leaning over him.

"Peter?"

"I'm here," Peter assured him as he let go. "You were just having a bad dream is all."

Wyatt suddenly stood up and walked out of the room, pulling his cell phone from his pocket as he did so.

"Was that Chef Wyatt?" Sweets asked, looking around his cousin.

"Yeah," Peter answered. "He's been here a lot, checking on you, going over things with your doctor, and making sure everything was being handled correctly."

"Right because I made him my advocate," the therapist nodded. "In case anything…in case…something happened."

Memories of what he was dreaming about began to creep into his thoughts, but Sweets tried to push them out of his mind. He tried to sit up, but Peter handed him a control to his bed.

"Here, use this instead," Peter suggested. "It'd be easier."

Sweets complied and after moving himself into a more upright position, he started to speak, but stopped himself when he saw a short grey-haired woman wearing a white coat walk into the room.

"Hello Doctor Sweets," she smiled. "I'm Doctor Leslie Werner. I've been looking after you ever since you arrived here."

"Hello," Sweets mumbled, looking back down at the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Werner asked. "Are you in any pain now?"

"Um, yeah…but it's not too bad," the psychologist shrugged. "Just mainly tired."

"That's good," the doctor nodded. "I would like the chance to examine you now, if that's all right?"

Peter moved out of the way to give her more room, and Sweets' eyes immediately became panicked. His eyes kept darting back and forth between Werner and his cousin.

"It's all right Doctor Sweets," she said in soft voice. "Your cousin can stay if you want him to."

Sweets looked back down into his lap, ashamed. He told himself that he was acting like a little child who was clinging to a security blanket. But as tears began to form in his eyes, he knew that he desperately wanted his cousin to stay.

"I…I'd like…." he stammered out.

"Sure, Whiz Kid," Peter said, patting his shoulder before moving back to the chair. "I'll stay."

Sweets nodded and Werner proceeded ask him a series of questions to test his awareness and to see if there was any faults in his reasoning or memory. She then checked the latest readings from the monitors and the charts near the bed. Finally she started to check his wounds and the dressings applied to some of them.

By this point, Sweets was close to breaking down again. Rationally he understood that Werner was doing her job and that it was in his best interest that she was so thorough. Still, ever since he was a child, he had never carried for anyone to be scrutinizing his body too closely. This time he had the added element that he could still vividly recall how he got each and every wound on his body. Having her examine him like this made him start to recall each of those moments even as he tried to force such thoughts out of his brain.

'_Please let this end,' _he begged silently. '_Please finish up and leave me alone.'_

"All right," Werner said as she completed her task. "Everything is looking good so far. You are recovering nicely, considering."

Sweets shrugged and went back to staring at the sheets on the bed. Werner could sense his unease, but decided to press onward.

"At this point, the most important thing we need to do is help you get your strength back," she said. "That means getting plenty of rest and plenty to eat. You've lost weight recently, Doctor Sweets…a little too much to be healthy, I'm afraid. I'd like to see you gain some of it back, so I'll be sending in a nurse in a couple hours. You can talk over what you would like to eat with her."

The psychologist shrugged again, but a sudden strong ache in his chest made him groan.

"Lance?" Peter asked, concerned.

"My chest," Sweets moaned. "It hurts."

"I'm sure it does," Werner nodded. "You're still fighting off the last vestiges of a pleural infection along with dealing with some cracked ribs. I can increase the pain medication if you would like, but it might make you a little groggy."

"No...no, it's ok," Sweets insisted. "I'll be fine." The idea of being sedated in a similar manner to how Andrew drugged him still managed to fill Sweets with terror.

"All right then, I will return in a few hours. Until then, try to get some rest," the doctor said as she started to leave the room. "Oh and just so you'll know, there are no restrictions on your visiting hours. Your family and friends can stay with you however long you'd like."

"Thank you," the psychologist said dully, still looking downward.

Werner nodded at both of them and left the room. After she left, Peter moved his chair closer to the bed, and Sweets sniffed.

"Are you all right?" Peter frowned. "Do you need me to call her back?"

"No!" Sweets nearly shouted. Seeing the startled look on Peter's face, the therapist swallowed hard.

"I mean, no it's ok," Sweets said, working to keep his voice calmer. "I just…." His voice then trailed off and he went back to fidgeting with his blankets. Peter thought back to when he and Lance were kids and soon the reason for Lance's agitation became clear to him.

"Hey, it's all right," his cousin said. "I'm sure you didn't enjoy having to endure that, but she's just making sure you're ok. It's over now, so just relax."

Sweets nodded; unable to speak for fear that he would start blubbering again. Instead he tried to draw whatever solace he could out of his cousin's comforting presence. A couple moments later, Wyatt walked back into the room.

"Doctor Sweets, I am very pleased to see you back with us again," he said, pulling up a chair to sit beside Peter.

"Chef Wyatt," Sweets said, still not looking up. "I want to thank you for all you've done recently…taking care of things around here…contacting Peter…."

"You're very welcome," Wyatt smiled. The chef studied Sweets for a minute before leaning closer to him.

"Might I have a word with you in private?" he asked. Sweets lifted his head and rubbed at his eyes.

"All right," he mumbled. He then turned toward Peter, who had not moved.

"It's all right," Sweets told him. Peter got up and went to leave.

"I'll be back shortly," the soldier said as he left the room. Sweets watched him walk out and after he was gone, he turned back toward Wyatt, his face suddenly unreadable.

"No," the psychologist said in a soft, but venomous whisper.

"Excuse me?"

"No," Sweets repeated. "I don't want to talk. Not about Andrew, not about what happened…not about any of it. So please don't ask."

"I see," Wyatt nodded, his tone still congenial. "Well then, would you be willing to listen to what I have to say to you?"

Sweets stared at him for a moment before finally giving a nod of consent.

"You don't have to say a word to any of this," Wyatt assured him. "I just ask that you hear me out. I have studied your profile on Jensen as a result of assisting the FBI in its case against him, and after considering the string of crimes that he was involved with, I must say that I agree with all of your assessments."

There was only a flicker in Sweets' eyes for a response, but within it, the chef saw a potent mix of fear, anguish and rage. He knew that he would have to tread cautiously here.

"Jensen tried and usually failed to hide and deny his own feelings of insecurity, isolation and inadequacy and acted upon his failures by inflicting pain onto others," Wyatt continued. "He was a wretchedly average sort when it came to things like intellect or accomplishments. But he did have a special talent for manipulation and guile."

The chef leaned back in his chair, all while keeping the same piercing stare on Sweets.

"Tell me one thing, Doctor Sweets: what do you believe is the common thread between these skill sets of his?"

"Lies," Sweets responded quietly. "Lies to conceal…lies to influence…lies to injure."

"I concur," Wyatt said as he rose to his feet. "And now that you have acknowledged this idea, I'd ask that you consider the possibility that Jensen also lied to you…and that his lies were the instruments to further his own ends."

Wyatt then walked over to the entrance way and waved out at someone in the hall. After a few seconds, Peter walked back into Sweets' room…with Booth close behind him.

Sweets began to shiver, his veins filling with an icy chill as his face became as pale as the sheets surrounding him.

"Booth," he whispered, trying to sink into the bed.

"Sweets…it's all right," Booth said gently as he slowly made his way into the room. The psychologist shook his head vigorously.

"No," he said, his eyes watering up.

"Lance, it's not a dream," Peter insisted. "Agent Booth is right here. That monster lied to you."

"No…no I saw it," the therapist croaked out. "I saw…the body."

"It wasn't me, Sweets," Booth said, continuing to advance toward the bed. "Jensen had killed one of the chemists who worked in a meth lab that acted as his supplier. It was his body that you saw. Jensen burned the body to conceal his identity, but Bones was able to ID him in her lab."

"No…no, I saw your wallet," Sweets blubbered as tears finally slid out. "It had your badge and pictures of Parker…he was wearing your belt buckle…the one you always wear…."

"Agent Burnet, the man who was supposed to be helping Coel keep you safe, was working with Jensen," Booth said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Jensen supplied him with info about other meth labs and in exchange, Burnet gave him all kinds of info about you and all of us. Jensen ended up killing him and it was his wallet and shield that you saw."

Sweets sat open-mouthed as he tried to take this all in.

'_He lied…Andrew lied after all…Booth's not dead. He's alive…He's been all right this entire time…I…I didn't get him killed…'_

"I…I thought…I thought that…" Sweets gasped.

"I know," Booth said, reaching over to pat the psychologist's forearm. "But it didn't happen. It was all just some kind of sick joke that Jensen decided to play on you."

Wyatt motioned at Peter and the two of them left the room. Meanwhile Sweets continued to tremble as he tried to get a hold of himself.

Then in a surprising burst of strength, Sweets lunged forward and enveloped the agent into a clumsy embrace. Booth initially winced at the contact, but then carefully returned it.

"It's ok," Booth murmured patting his back lightly as the therapist buried his face against his shoulder. He could feel Sweets' body shake with numerous tremors and figured that it was taking every bit of strength that Sweets had to embrace him. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with the psychologist hugging him like this, but he had to admit that he was touched by the obvious relief and depth of affection Sweets had for him.

But just as suddenly as he had grabbed him, Sweets released him and flopped back down against the bed, wincing as he did so. He then turned his face away while wiping his tears off his face.

"I'm sorry," the psychologist mumbled. "I shouldn't have done that. It…it won't happen again."

"Hey, you don't need to apologize," Booth insisted. "It's fine, all right?"

Sweets nodded, still sniffling. It took considerable effort, but he was able to move onto his side. Once there he lowered the bed some.

"Please…I'm so tired," the therapist said as he closed his eyes. "I just want to rest."

"That's fine," the agent said, turning a nearby chair toward the wall with the TV mounted on it. Sweets could hear the metal legs scrape along the floor.

"You…you don't have to stay," Sweets said shakily.

'_Please stay…please don't leave me alone…what if you're gone when I wake back up….?'_

"Don't worry, I'll be quiet while you rest," Booth said. "And I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

Sweets could hear the sound of the television remote buttons clicking, but Booth kept the sound completely down. He pushed his face against his pillow in an effort to muffle his tears. He tried to remain as motionless as possible, a part of him wondering if the agent would eventually become bored and leave. But his shaking made it impossible to stay still.

'_You experimented on us.'_

'_Is this how Brennan felt when she found out that Booth survived after Pam Nunan shot him?' _Sweets wondered. '_I thought she was just angry…maybe even realizing how strongly she felt for him. Did she feel the way I did when I thought Booth was dead? What about when she eventually found out it had all been a ruse?'_

Sweets gripped his pillowcase, his knuckles turning white.

'_How could I do that to her? Why would I do that to someone I care about? What kind of person does that?'_

'_No matter how much you deny it, I'm your father, Lance,' _Andrew's voice echoed in his head. '_You can't escape it…I'm in your blood.'_

'_Andrew…he would do something like that. He did do something like that. Something just like that…'_

Sweets' breathing started to hitch and it became difficult and painful to draw in air. Booth noticed his distress and went over to the bed, placing a hand on the psychologist's shoulder. Sweets flinched violently and yelped at the unexpected touch. Sweets swiveled toward him, and the face that met Booth's had wet, fearful eyes and red blotchy cheeks.

"It's ok. It's ok," Booth said, holding his hands up while backing away. "I was just…here let me."

The agent then reached over and adjusted Sweets' blankets, making sure he was tucked in. That simple gesture was enough to finally push the therapist into a fit of sobbing which he tried to hide by firmly planting his face back into his pillow.

"I'll be over there," Booth said as he went back to the chair. "Try to get some sleep."

Sweets gave the barest of nods, but said nothing as his mind conjured up all of the memories that had been threatening to overwhelm his mind.

'_Booth was right: it was all a sick joke to Andrew….And I did the exact same thing. I'm just like him.'_

* * *

Booth watched and listened as Sweets trembled and wept. He was worried about how Sweets was acting, but had also been startled at how strongly the psychologist reacted to his attempts to console him. Despite his discomfort, he hated seeing Sweets so vulnerable and desolate and wanted to do something about it.

But as he started to think about trying again to comfort Sweets, a tiny but insistent voice inside him would remind Booth that the reason Sweets had been brutalized in the first place was because he had failed to protect him.

'_I let this happen. It's my fault that he ended up like this. And now he might be starting to crack…all because I didn't do what I promised.'_

Whenever that thought replayed in his mind, Booth felt even more helpless in the face of the psychologist's pain. As a result, the two of them stayed frozen where they were, locked into their own private torments.

This melancholic silence continued on for hours….neither of them daring to break it.


	32. Chapter 32

Author's Note: Next chapter. Sorry about the long delay on this. I really struggled with this chapter, but hopefully things are back on track now. Things will be wrapping up for this fic around Chapter 40 or so, and the sequel will pick up from there...albeit with a possible short time jump at the beginning.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Rankor01: **Exactly. I often sense that Sweets is struggling to prove something to himself, like maybe that he's not the same as the people who abused him even though he shares their genetic code. It explains why he's so driven to solidify the relationships he sees around him like B&B or Hodgins and Angela: if he can help others find happiness in secure relationships, it reinforces the idea that he's more like his beloved adoptive parents who saved and nurtured him. Unfortunately, he has made mistakes, and I could see Andrew manipulating his guilt and insecurities into something far more insidious than any physical mark he left on Sweets...And as you pointed out, he's not the only one who is struggling with such things...

**Writerchick786: **My only opinion about the "Finder" episode is that it didn't feel like an episode of Bones at all. I'll leave it at that... I'm glad you're enjoying Peter. :) Don't be surprised if he appears in a couple of my future fic projects...I'll admit to having issues with TPitH. I understand that the writers were wanting to cast a shadow of suspicion on Sweets, but in some ways they set up a bad precedent to allow for inconsistencies in his character. My theory stands that Sweets was actually acting out of grief and a twisted sort of "lashing out" with his actions toward Brennan (something I explore in far more detail in my The Transition of the Therapist fic). But despite the lack of any mention of it in canon, I can't picture Sweets letting go of any lingering guilt for his actions so easily and could not help but compare his feelings over Booth's possible "death" with the ones Brennan had at the end of TWitW. Thus why it will be explored here...Hee, I actually have the scene you mentioned from TCitC in my mind frequently when I write more emotionally driven scenes between him and Booth. We know that Booth is not the hugging type and yet he has become friends with someone who's frequently longing for physical displays of affection. It's a dichotomy that is always fun for me to play with when writing these stories. :)

**D: **Unfortunately, their common traits are playing against them right now. I agree with you that they will need to lean on each other in order to do this. It's now a matter of who will make the first move...

**Hawksky: **Well sadly, there is no set schedule to updating (as I'm sure is becoming clear by now). It mainly revolves around when I can find time away from my studies and when I can work out any issues I might have with my original drafts of my fics. As I mentioned before, I go through a somewhat lengthy process of writing things out long-hand and then typing and editing before I update. Sometimes things fall into place perfectly, or I have more free time and that's when you see more frequent updates. Putting that aside, thank you so much for your review. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

**NCISMcAbbyISthebest: **Thank you. I'm thrilled that Peter is getting fans among my readers. I wish they would give Sweets a relative on the show so that we could learn more about his background. Ah we can but dream...

**Lives in the now: **No, you have a valid point. I agree that Sweets is much stronger than he gives himself credit for, but sometimes it seems to be a matter of inspiring him to use that strength to pull himself up. For now, it will seem like he's spiraling downward, but that is to be expected given what happened. On the other hand, as you pointed out, he does have people around him who are invested in him getting better, and it's only a matter of time before they break through the wall that Andrew has built up...Anyway, thank you as always for the review. :)

**Blazing Rubellite: **I've often thought that Sweets has the potential to use his psychological gifts to harm as well as heal and that this is something he struggles with: the dual sides to his nature. Andrew, however, has no problem using his skills in this manner...to produce devastating results, as we see now...Yes, I do enjoy watching Criminal Minds, actually, along with numerous other crime/procedural type shows. But abnormal psychology has been an interest of mine for quite some time (as demonstrated by my choice of college majors) as well thus my passion to delve into it in my writing.

**SpencerPlusMeEqualsTrueLOVE: **Thank you for the review. I wanted to keep it connected into canon even though by now, I've sort of gone off into AU territory within the time line of the show. I hope you enjoy the rest of it as well.

**Scarlet2009: **I completely agree with your notion that it sometimes you have to reach the bottom before you can dig yourself out as you will soon see in this chapter.

**Ranchan-akari: **Thank you. I attribute my style to a long-time obsession with angst when reading other people's fanfiction. :) I do, however, have a weakness for fluff too, so expect those "plushier" moments in the future.

**XxBamxX: **Well sadly, I wasn't able to hurry, life and college have been known to get in the way of my writing. :) But hopefully this chapter will be worth the wait.

**MadameCasse-pieds: **Thank you for the lovely review. :) I'm glad that you've enjoyed my collection of Sweets fics. I agree that he's a fascinating, complex character with numerous facets that could be explored further, and it's a shame that there aren't more fics that delve deeper into his character. I'll confess that it was a struggle to plan out all of the details of the plot for this, but I'm glad that you are enjoying how it's all falling into place...I do study psychology in college and have almost finished my first degree in the field. That along with the years I spent originally working toward an English/writing-oriented degree have proven to be useful in writing my stories... Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter along with my future projects. PS, I thought your English was pretty good actually. Far better than I would be able to do in French. :) Again, thank you so much for your review.

**SpeculationInColor: **Thank you. This and my THotF fic are definitely among my favorites in regards to my own projects, so I'm glad you are enjoying them as well...While it will be a little more problematic for me to fix errors that happened much earlier in this fic since my account can't hold all of the chapters of this story, feel free to point out any mistakes I make. I appreciate the assist and will try to correct them at some point...I agree that writing for these characters can be challenging at times, but it's a fun kind of challenge. :) Good luck with your own stories. This site can always use some more Sweets-centric Bones fic.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 32

Eventually Sweets managed to take a short nap, but even that was punctuated with nightmares and his own tortured thoughts. Luckily he was able to keep himself from crying out whenever he awoke so he could keep from disturbing Booth. The rest of the time the agent was in the room was spent by staring into his pillow, too tired to do anything else, but unable to sleep for any real length of time either.

Almost an hour later, Peter returned, and Booth left shortly thereafter. Soon a nurse came in, and after Sweets went over his meal options with her and explained that he had no dietary restrictions, she left. A short time afterwards, she returned with a tray of food which she sat in front of the therapist with a reminder to eat as much as possible.

Sweets sat up and studied the tray in front of him. Food wasn't really appealing to him right now, but Peter was insistent that he try to eat something. Frowning, Sweets scooped up a bit of it with his fork and gulped it down, chewing as little as possible. He forced himself to eat more, but every bite made him gag when he went to swallow them. Bile started to rise into the back of his throat, and the nausea reminded him of how he felt after most of the injections Andrew gave him.

At that point, Sweets gave up eating and pushed his tray away.

"Lance, you should try to eat more than that," Peter said. "You barely ate a third of what they gave you."

"I…I can't. Not right now," Sweets said. "Please…I'll get sick if I eat more…Maybe later?"

"All right," Peter relented. "But I am going to hold you to that. You're going to eat more than that next time."

The psychologist nodded and settled back into the bed. The hours passed silently and eventually another meal tray showed up. Peter reminded Sweets of his promise and used that along with some coaxing to try to get him to eat. But after only a few bites, the therapist vomited into his bedpan. After that, Peter stopped trying, at a loss to know what to do next. Instead the two of them fell into an uncomfortable silence with Peter staring out the window, and Sweets gazing at the ceiling.

The psychologist thought about trying to go back to sleep, but was surprised by the sight of Brennan, Booth, Angela, Hodgins, and Cam coming into his room. All of them were bearing gifts in their hands and smiles on their faces.

"Sweets, it's so good to see you awake," Cam said, her eyes shining. She placed the flowers she was holding onto one of the stands in the room and went over to take his hands into hers.

"How are you feeling?" the pathologist asked.

"Fine, thank you for asking, Doctor Saroyan," Sweets said as he pulled his hands away. Angela handed the gift bag she was holding over to Hodgins and made her way to the bed.

"We missed you," she grinned, taking the therapist into a firm, but gentle embrace. Sweets squirmed and began to blush as he pried himself loose.

"Thank you," he said in the same thin, polite voice. "And thank you for restoring my pictures…I thought they were a lost cause, and I didn't have any negatives."

"You're welcome," Angela said. "I was hoping that you'd like the frames I picked out for them. Oh and here."

The artist went over to Hodgins and grabbed the bag from his hands and pulled out a plush dog.

"Bren mentioned that you're a dog person," Angela smiled. "So I got you this." She sat the stuffed animal close to his pillow. Sweets picked it up and turned it to face him.

'_When did I mention that?'_ he wondered. '_I mean, I like them, but I'm allergic so it's not like I'm hanging around them much…Wait…the night April left me…Did she remember that this whole time?'_

"Thank you," he murmured, still staring into the blue glass eyes and happy smile that was sewn into the dog's face. As he held the dog in his hands and ran its floppy, velvety ears through his fingers, the therapist could not deny the happiness and security that he felt while in his friends' presence, and he started to wish that he could hold onto this moment forever.

'_No, not friends…co-workers and patients,' _he thought. '_I made too many mistakes before…getting too close…meddling.'_

'_I can't let that start up again.'_

"Hey Sweets, don't you want your pudding?" Hodgins asked as he pointed to the mostly untouched tray of food nearby. "If you're not careful, I might just have to snag it for myself…that is if Booth doesn't beat me to it."

"That's ok, Doctor Hodgins," Sweets said, placidly. "You can have it if you would like. I'm not really hungry."

"Doctor Sweets, you might want to reconsider that offer," Brennan said. "While pudding does not offer much in the way of nutritional value, you do need to consume a sufficient number of calories in order to achieve a healthier weight."

"I said that I wasn't hungry," Sweets snapped, regarding her with an angry glare. "I think I can figure out for myself if I need to eat or not."

Everyone flinched at the psychologist's harsh tone, nonplussed at his behavior. After a few seconds more of staring, Sweets hung his head and went back to fidgeting with the stuffed animal.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Brennan," he droned. "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."

"Apology accepted," the anthropologist nodded. "I suspect that you haven't been able to sleep very well in this hospital, and studies have consistently shown that a lack of sleep can alter mood. But I might be able to help with that."

Brennan opened the large gift bag she was holding and pulled out a large comforter.

"The blankets here are adequate, but probably not very comfortable," she added as she unfolded it. "Hopefully this will make it easier to rest."

Booth walked over to her and took one end of the blanket, and the two of them spread it out over Sweets' bed. Sweets sat his stuffed animal down and pulled the comforter closer to his chest, reveling in its softness and in the warmth that shielded him from the persistent chill in the room.

"Thank you," he said as he covered himself with it. Tears pricked at his eyes.

'_Why is she doing this? I know what she thinks of me and the work that I do. I'm just a gnat blathering away junk derived from the "soft science" I've wasted my life on. She doesn't care…It's a lie.'_

'_You experimented on us.'_

'_Just like me,' _Sweets reasoned. _'I'm the biggest lie here…At best, they're just being kind to me because I was a victim…And after a while, they'll go back to their normal lives…Lives I don't belong in.'_

Peter had watched his cousin's reunion with his friends from a corner of the room and was quickly becoming concerned at how stiff, formal and distant Sweets was acting. When the psychologist lowered his head and started to sniff, he decided it was time to intervene.

"Lance, what is it?" he said as he sat down in a chair next to the bed.

"Tired," Sweets whispered. "Want to sleep."

"Hey, that's fine Sweets," Angela smiled. "You go ahead and rest, and we'll just hang around here until…."

"No!" Sweets responded. "I…I mean, that's ok. I'm really tired, and I'd like to get some rest…alone."

All of them blinked again at his cool, detached tone, but they still did their best to maintain their cheery expressions.

"Ok then, we'll see you tomorrow, Sweets," Cam said as she walked out of the room. Angela, Hodgins, and Brennan quickly followed after giving farewells of their own. But Booth hesitated and moved closer to the bed.

"Before I go, I have something to give you too," the agent said. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it to the therapist. Sweets opened up and gaped at what he found inside.

"We found it at a pawnshop," Booth explained. "Jen—he must have sold it for extra spending money. Now that the case is closed, it's no longer evidence, so I thought I'd give it back to you."

Sweets gingerly pulled out his watch, turning it over and running his index finger along the engraving on the back. He then clutched it in both of his hands, sniffling hard.

"Agent Booth, I…I can't thank you enough…."

"You're welcome Sweets," Booth grinned at him, reaching over to pat his shoulder and choosing to ignore the resulting flinch from the therapist. "I'm just glad that I could give it back to you."

Sweets nodded, his eyes locked onto his father's watch. The psychologist carefully laid it on the table beside him and settled back into his bed. He then regarded Booth with a hollow, yet penetrating stare until Booth cleared his throat and started to back out of the room.

"Ok, so Bones and I are going to drop by here tomorrow morning and bring you breakfast, all right?" Booth said. "Until then, take it easy and get some sleep."

"I will, thank you Agent Booth," Sweets replied. Booth ducked out of the room, his expression clearly troubled.

Peter sighed and pulled his chair over to face the television while Sweets lowered his bed to lie down.

"You don't have to stay," Sweets said. "All I'm doing is going to sleep."

"Don't worry about it," Peter assured him. "I'm just going to stay here in case you need anything."

"I know you've been spending too much time here," Sweets sighed. "Anyone could see that you're exhausted. You should give yourself a break. Really, there's no need for you to be here."

"Lance, I…."

"I want to be alone. Is that too much to ask?" Sweets cut in. Ashamed at his tone, the therapist swallowed hard and looked down at his lap.

"Peter, I'm sorry…I'm really sorry about that," he murmured, tears lacing his tone.

"Hey, I forgive you, ok?" Peter soothed, reaching over to rub his shoulder. "You've got a lot to deal with right now. It's no surprise that your nerves are a little frayed these days."

"I just…You and everyone else keep hovering around me," Sweets continued. "And I need some time alone. Please?"

Peter stood up, his heart torn. He felt uneasy about leaving Lance alone in this state, but he was also certain that his cousin would not handle being smothered very well either.

"All right, Lance, I'll go," he said. "But my number is right next to that phone beside you. If you need me for anything….I don't care what time it is…."

"I'll call," Sweets nodded. He then laid the rest of the way down and covered himself with his blankets, closing his eyes. "Good night Peter." The soldier bent down and placed the sheets a little tighter along the therapist's shoulders.

"Good night, Whiz Kid," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sweets burrowed deeper under the covers and laid still until he heard Peter leave the room. He then opened his eyes and stared at the window next to his bed. He tried to relax his body and mind so he could think, but every sound and flicker of movement startled him. After only a few minutes of being left alone, the psychologist felt the fear spreading throughout his body.

'_Pathetic. I'm like some little kid who's afraid of the dark. I can't even go to sleep by myself anymore.'_

Sweets pounded his fist into the pillow. Even as a child, he would give himself some periods of solitude so he could reflect on and sort through his own thoughts and feelings. Sometimes it spiraled into brooding, but these days it was usually a way to refresh and quiet his mind.

But right now, Sweets found that he was becoming increasingly anxious by himself, and he hated the feeling. His breathing started to hitch as some tears finally leaked out.

'_I can't keep clinging to all of them. They're my co-workers and patients. It's wrong to emotionally obligate them this way. And Peter…Peter can't stay here forever. He has his own life that he needs to get back to.'_

Unable to sleep, he tried to focus on finding a way to banish his fear and work through the misery and guilt he felt. Unfortunately every line of thought would eventually be interrupted by the memories of Andrew's words.

'_The truth is we are all alone, Lance….'_

'_No, not all of us,' _Sweets mused. '_Booth has Brennan. Angela has Hodgins. Cam has Paul. They all have each other…Not all of us are alone. But…I am. And that's probably how it should be. I'm just dragging them down right now. I should rely on myself and stop letting them coddle me. Maybe I'll get better…maybe I won't. But either way, they should be free of me.'_

Sweets squeezed his eyes shut while continuing to weep. He would lie here, quiet and still until he fell asleep on his own. No matter how long that took.

* * *

_He was unsure about how much time had passed, but eventually Sweets re-opened weary, sleep-filled eyes and was shocked at what he found. He was still in bed, but the bed was no longer in a hospital room._

'_Where am I? What is this? Wait…this…this is familiar…'_

_Terror spiked within him when he realized that he was back in the basement where Andrew had been holding him captive. He tried to get up and run, but was horrified to find that he couldn't move._

"_Did you really think you could escape me, Lance?"_

_Sweets looked over to see Jensen standing on the other side of the room, whip in hand. Andrew leered at him as he moved closer._

"_Did you have a nice dream?" he snickered. "Let me guess: it was about some big save your 'friends' did to get you out of here. Am I right?"_

"_No…you're dead," Sweets croaked. "Booth killed you, not the other way around. You lied."_

"_Did I?" Andrew sneered. "Or is that just the lie you're telling yourself to make you feel better. After all, you seem to have no problem with lying and hurting the people who get close to you. Isn't that right, Lance?"_

_The psychologist shivered as beads of sweat formed on his brow. His mind quickly brought up all the memories of his friends that he had been agonizing over._

"_See, you're no different than me, Lance," Andrew nodded, his eyes cold and lifeless. "And now it's time for more of what you deserve."_

_Andrew reached down and flipped Sweets over effortlessly. He then slowly pulled Sweets' shirt over his head, covering his face while exposing the pale, scarred skin underneath._

"_Go ahead and scream," Andrew jeered. "Nobody's coming to save you. It's all in your head. And every time you wake up from that dream, I'll be here waiting for you."_

_Sweets' breathing grew ragged and fast as he anticipated the upcoming lashes from the whip._

'_Please let this end,' he prayed silent. 'Please let me wake up and this all be a dream…Unless that is the dream and this...this is…No, no…I don't want to come back to this…Let me die…'_

_Andrew brought the whip down, and no matter how hard he tried, Sweets could not stop himself from crying out._

* * *

Sweets kept screaming even when the nurses rushed into his room, one of them shaking his arm in an effort to rouse him.

"Mr. Sweets, wake up," she said. "Wake up. You're having a nightmare." But the lack of familiar voices made it difficult for Sweets to break free from his dreams.

"No, let go. Let go," he cried. A doctor rushed in and watched as the psychologist fought the nurses while his heart rate climbed rapidly.

"Get some restraints on him before he hurts himself," the doctor ordered. "And get me a syringe."

More nurses came in and two of them held him down while the other two secured Sweets' wrists and ankles into cuffs attached to the bed. As he lost use of his limbs, Sweets finally came to, his mind still somewhat clouded by fear and pain.

"What…what are you doing?" he gasped. "Let me go." He struggled against his restraints to little avail due to his swiftly dwindling strength.

"It's all right, Mr. Sweets," the doctor said as he finished prepping the syringe in his hands. "Everything will be fine soon enough." The psychologist's eyes widened at the sight of the needle.

"No, please…Please, no drugs," he begged. "I'm fine. I'm awake now. Please…."

"Don't worry. This won't interact with your pain medication," the doctor said as he injected fluid into his IV. "This will just help you relax."

Sweets felt a slight sting and went back to trying to free himself. But within seconds, he felt a hazy lethargic numbness start to overtake him.

"There now, that's more like it" the doctor said as he backed out of the room. "I'm sure you feel better soon."

Sweets closed his eyes again, too weak to keep them open. The truth was, he couldn't really feel much of anything right now. But as he drifted off into a dreamless slumber, he wondered if that was such a bad thing after all.


	33. Chapter 33

Author's Note: Next chapter. At the rate things are going, I'm thinking that this story will probably finish at around Chapter 40. The sequel I am planning will pick things up from there.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It's always appreciated.

**Rankor01: **I believe that his friends do sense that something is wrong, but like you said, they don't know the true extent of it. But as you've guessed, there will be an important epiphany at some point that will make clear what needs to be done...It's something I've observed about Sweets on the show: he tries to get close to people, but then gets scared when they get too close and pushed away. A great example of that IMO is the flustered reaction he had when Booth put forth the idea that Sweets asked to write a book about him and Brennan because Sweets liked them and wanted to be around them. He clearly did not like being so transparent to Booth...I've never understood the idea I've seen in some stories where someone just "bounces back" from something this traumatic and thus did not want to do that here. I believe that there is strength to be found when dark times like these are eventually overcome and that is something I wanted to explore in this story and in my upcoming sequel.

**Lives in the now: **As I think I told another reviewer once, sometimes you have to hit bottom before you can dig yourself out. Also, sometimes it takes a little while to find the courage and direction one needs to act as they need to. I think you'll find both to be true in these upcoming chapters.

**Abandon-Morality:** The more I study psychology, the more I discover that the recovery from traumatic events is rarely linear. Thus, it will not be an easy path for Sweets...

**AnneWentworth: **Thank you for your review. :) It's always fun to meet another Sweets fan...I sometimes think that Sweets is afraid of letting his vulnerabilities show in front of the others for fear that they might reject him for some reason, thus why he often tries to put up a brave front and shut his personal feelings away. Plus, I agree with you that pain does make it hard to think straight. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks. Sweets does have a lot to work through, and the last chapter will not be the end of it. But fortunately, as you've pointed out, he has people who are not going to give up very easily...

**ASummer: **Thank you. :D Again, it's always great to meet with a fellow Sweets fan, and I am thrilled that you have read and enjoyed all of my work up to this point. Unfortunately updates will be a little slow at times due to my incredibly chaotic life right now, but hopefully I won't keep you waiting too long. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my latest update.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 33

The next morning Booth and Brennan stopped by the Royal Diner to pick up some breakfast for Sweets before heading off to the hospital. When they got there, there were surprised to see Wyatt, Peter and Werner standing in the hallway talking with another man who appeared to be a doctor.

"What's going on?" Brennan asked as they approached.

"I don't know, but it can't be good," Booth said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Peter looks like he's going to tear that guy's head off any minute now," the agent said right before they joined them. Peter, however, didn't seem to notice their arrival and continued his heated tirade toward the doctor standing in front of him.

"How dare you do that to him?" the soldier snarled. "Don't you know what brought him here in the first place?"

"What's going on?" Booth demanded. Peter glared at the physician for a second more before turning toward Booth.

"Chef Wyatt and I decided to come by early to see how Lance was doing," he said. "What we found was that someone had strapped Lance's wrists and ankles to the bed and had sedated him."

"Mr. Sweets was extremely agitated last night," the doctor huffed. "We tried to get him to relax, but he wouldn't respond to us. We didn't want him to re-injure himself so we used restraints and a sedative. It was the best and fastest way to calm him."

"Calm him?" Booth growled, his anger soon mirroring Peter's. "_Doctor_ Sweets is in this hospital because some evil psycho tied him to a bed before drugging and torturing him. And you think that strapping him down and giving him sedatives are the best ways to calm him?"

"I…I didn't know the situation," the doctor said, finally contrite.

"Perhaps not," Werner said, narrowing her eyes. "But even so, I put a notice on all of Doctor Sweets' charts that stated that any additional medications administered had to be cleared by me first. A notice you chose to ignore in the interest of using the easiest way possible to hush him. If you had taken the time to read the charts, you would have known that Doctor Sweets poses virtually no threat to the staff due to his extremely weakened condition. All you needed to do was to wake him up."

Werner walked a couple steps closer to the doctor. Despite her small stature, the other man appeared intimidated by her presence.

"That young man has gone through an unspeakable ordeal," she said. "It's our job to help him recover, not to just keep him quiet. So from now on, you make sure to consult with me, Doctor Wyatt or one of Doctor Sweets' family members before doing anything else to him. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes doctor," the other man sulked before walking away.

"I am truly sorry for what happened," Werner said after he left. "I will make sure that it does not happen again."

Peter nodded and took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to release his anger. Wyatt could not help but observe that Booth was performing a similar action.

"Is that breakfast I see for young Doctor Sweets?" Wyatt asked, tilting his head toward the box in Brennan's hands.

"Yes," the anthropologist answered. "We thought that he might enjoy a meal that is more in line with his established eating habits."

"I appreciate you doing that," Werner sighed. "I'm afraid that Doctor Sweets has actually gotten weaker rather than stronger over the last day or so and increasing his food intake would be a great place to start reversing this trend."

"We'll do what we can," Peter said.

"I'm sure you will," Werner smiled at him. "Now please excuse me. I have some other patients I need to attend to." The doctor left them, and Booth leaned toward Wyatt.

"Sweets…he's not still tied up is he?" he asked.

"No, SSG Sweets removed the restraints the moment we arrived," Wyatt replied.

"But, Lance…he's still kind of out of it," Peter sighed while running a hand over his face. "He's awake, and he'll respond to you if you speak to him directly. But otherwise he just sits there and zones out."

"A side effect from the sedatives he was given," the chef added. "It will pass."

"How did this happen in the first place?" Booth wondered.

"One of the nurses told me that Lance had some kind of nightmare last night," Peter said. "A bad one from the sound of it. It freaked out the staff, so they decided to restrain and sedate him."

"And you let them do that?" Booth asked, incredulous.

"Of course not," Peter said. "I wasn't here last night. Trust me, if I had been, that would have never happened."

"Why weren't you here?" Brennan asked. "I thought we agreed that we weren't going to leave Sweets by himself."

"Lance begged for some time to himself last night," Peter responded. "I probably shouldn't have left him, but you have to understand that he's always been like that. Even as a kid, there were times when he'd want to be left alone. I guess it's his way of coping with stuff in his life. I thought that it would be good for him to have some solitude for a little while."

The soldier's shoulders slumped as he clenched his hands tight.

"No…no probably…I was wrong to leave him alone," he said. "If I had been here, things wouldn't have gone that far. It's just…I want to help him, but I'm not sure what do to anymore."

Wyatt shifted his gaze between Booth and Peter during this conversation and gave them both a thoughtful look before speaking.

"SSG Sweets, as unfortunate as the outcomes were your actions were not necessarily in error," he said. "You were merely trying to give your cousin the space he needs to gather his thoughts. We do not want to rob Doctor Sweets of all autonomy. That is exactly what Jensen tried to do."

Wyatt paused so that his words could sink in, but was dismayed to see that they seemed to provide no assurance to Peter. He watched as Booth assumed a nearly identical posture of defeat and decided that some additional "nudging" was needed.

"I think you will find that you are not alone in this predicament and that others are also searching for some way to better assist Doctor Sweets' recovery," he said. "My advice to all of you is patience and perseverance. There will be some unintentional mistakes made along the way, but I believe that you will find that Doctor Sweets will be very forgiving of them. It is far more important that you continue to re-enforce the idea that you will support him no matter what."

"But you said that we need to proceed carefully," Brennan frowned. "Shouldn't mistakes be avoided at all cost?"

"They should be avoided, but not at the expense of all attempts at nurturing or reassurance," Wyatt replied. "Caution will be paramount in our deliberate, decisive actions, but minor infractions will most likely be ignored."

"We should probably give him breakfast now," Brennan said as she walked toward the room. She felt unsatisfied with the direction of the conversation and was eager to end it through any sort of distraction.

"An excellent suggestion," Wyatt smiled as the rest of them followed her. "Before we go in, I was wondering if I could ask a favor from all of you."

"What is it?" Booth asked.

"I would like to observe your interactions with Doctor Sweets," the chef answered. "Unobtrusively as possible, of course. I would like to get a better sense of how he is choosing to process things these days."

"But Gordon Gordon, won't Sweets know what you're up to?" Booth asked.

"I am sure he will, actually," Wyatt nodded. "Even in this state, he is a prodigy when it comes to analyzing behavior. But I have a hunch that his awareness of my intentions will have little impact on his actions."

"Fine by me," Peter sighed. "At this point, I'm up for anything that will get through to Lance."

Wyatt could hear the discouragement in the soldier's tone and it troubled him. He then decided that he would need to observe both of the Sweets in order to maintain any sort of improvement in the situation.

"We're fine with it too," Booth nodded along with Brennan. "We just hope you can do something."

* * *

The four of them walked inside and found Sweets reclining in bed, his eyes droopy as he stared out the window. He did not turn his head even as they entered the room.

"Hey Sweets. You awake?" Booth asked.

"Good morning Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan," Sweets said mechanically as he turned glazed eyes toward them. "How are you?"

"We are well, thank you" Brennan said. "We brought you some breakfast from the Diner. One of the waitresses there, Shirley, said that this is one of your favorite meals."

She handed the box of food over to Sweets along with some plastic utensils she had taken from the restaurant. Sweets sighed and sat up, placing the food onto his lap.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to do that," the psychologist said.

"Trust me, this is a mission of mercy, Sweets," Booth said, trying to smirk. "I've been in a couple of these places myself, and I can tell you that breakfast is always the worst meal to get in here."

Sweets shrugged and opened up the box, staring at the food inside. It was indeed one of his favorites: waffles with syrup that were garnished with berries. Normally, he considered the bright blues and reds of the fruit cheerful, but these days food often looked like little more than a sloppy mess that was scooped onto a plate. Aware of how everyone was watching him, the therapist picked up his fork and started to eat. As he chewed, he looked up to see Peter move to stand by the window while Brennan and Booth continued to watch him by the bed. It was Wyatt's presence in the doorway, however, that caught his attention.

'_He's studying me…Seeing how I react to everyone and to anything in the surroundings,' _Sweets thought to himself. '_Watching for clues to my state of mind.'_

The psychologist jammed another bite of food into his mouth and swallowed hard, forcing the chunks of fruit and waffle down his throat. He resented the implication that he had become another patient to Wyatt, but knowing the chef the way he did, Lance was certain that there was little he could do about it.

'_So what if he is watching me. It doesn't matter. Wyatt will just confirm for the others what I already know: that Andrew broke me and that there's no going back.'_

As his irritation and loathing mounted, Sweets suddenly considered the hypocritical nature of his anger, and it caused him to have to choke his next bite.

'_This…this is probably the exact same feeling Booth, Brennan and all the rest of them had when I inserted myself into their lives…always watching them…poking and prodding….'_

Soon his mind wandered to a variety of memories from the last couple of years: the book he had been trying to write about Booth and Brennan, his attempts to advise Cam in workplace matters, the conversations he had with Angela and Hodgins right before they called off their wedding. As he replayed these moments in his thoughts, Sweets' stomach churned.

The others knew that something was wrong when the therapist stopped eating and was sitting there staring at his bed sheets.

"Sweets?" Booth asked. "Is something wrong?"

The psychologist didn't seem to hear him as he sat his fork down and started to hold his abdomen. Booth was about to try again when he was stunned to watch Sweets grow at least two shades paler.

Having seen this seen this before, Peter marched over to the bed and handed Sweets a bedpan right before the therapist started to vomit up everything he had just eaten. After expelling everything inside him and gasping with dry heaves for a couple minutes, Sweets collapsed back against the bed while his cousin hit the call button for a nurse.

"I'm sorry," Sweets mumbled as he shut the box of food and moved it to a nearby stand.

"Hey, it's all right Sweets," Booth assured him. "Does Werner know about this?"

"Probably," the psychologist replied. The agent glanced over at Peter, who gave him an affirmative nod.

"Well…we can just try something else later," Booth said.

"Booth, if Sweets is suffering from some kind of intestinal distress, it will need to be addressed first," Brennan said. "He won't be able to eat if it's not taken care of, no matter how long we wait."

"I know that Bones, but Sweets said that Werner probably already knows about it, so she's probably already addressed it," Booth replied. "So…maybe we should see if it's gotten any better in a little while."

Sweets did his best to not respond to the artificial push he could hear behind Booth's words while a nurse came in and collected his bedpan. As Booth and Brennan continued to talk, Sweets picked at some lint on his hospital gown. His mind was still struggling to clear itself of the fog that was brought on by the sedatives, and he was a little scared when he realized how hard he had to work to maintain any coherent thoughts.

'_Do you still feel like "helping people"? Or are you ready to see the world as it really is?'_

'_What was I thinking?' _Sweets thought as his eyes watered up again. '_Andrew was right, it was all a waste. Mom and Dad put all that time and money into my education, and for what? So I could carry out some half-baked plan to help other people? So I could try to be more like them? Who am I kidding? I could never be as good as they were….'_

Sensing his cousin's misery, Peter moved back closer to the bed and reached over to put a hand on his shoulder. But to almost everyone's surprise, Sweets shuddered and shrank away from him.

"Don't touch me," Sweets hissed.

"Lance, I…it's ok," Peter said, shock evident in his features. "I was just going to…."

"Why do you have to keep grabbing me?" the therapist spat. "I don't care how much you look like him _you're not Dad_. So stop trying to act like him."

Peter ground his jaw, but remained silent as he worked to rein in his anger and hurt at Sweets' words. He tried to remind himself about his cousin's fragile physical and emotional state along with Wyatt's warnings about what Sweets might do, but his own exhaustion and frayed feelings were getting in the way.

"Lance, that's not true," Peter said, his voice stern. "I know that I could never replace Uncle David, and I'm not trying to. I'm just trying to help you."

"I don't want your help," Sweets said. "Not like that. Besides, I know why you're here. Dad asked you to look after me, didn't he? And you couldn't say no."

"He did, but I didn't want to say no in the first place," Peter responded, his anger rising. "I'm here because you're family, and I care about you. It has nothing to do with any sort of obligation."

"No? Then maybe it's guilt that's keeping you then," Sweets said, his tone increasingly cruel. "You couldn't 'save me' so now you're trying to ease your guilt by hanging around here…Or maybe it's just part of your ongoing quest to be more like Vincent. After all, you've been living in his shadow ever since you were a kid."

Peter didn't speak but rage distorted his features while he trembled. He then abruptly stormed out of the room, stopping only for a moment to mumble something to Wyatt before leaving.

"Sweets, it might not be my business, but I'm pretty sure that you know that that was out of line," Booth scowled before following Peter and Wyatt out the door.

Brennan watched him leave, a pensive look on her face. She then pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down.

"Doctor Brennan, I…you don't have to stay," Sweets said.

"You're probably right," she nodded. "I know that Booth believes that somehow a visitor's presence will have some kind of medicinal benefit for someone in the hospital, but I don't believe that. Your recovery is dependent on the treatments you receive and on the skill of the physician attending to you."

Brennan paused, a thoughtful look gleaming in her eye while she considered her next words.

"However, I find it somehow…reassuring to be here with you," she said. "There's no logic to it, but I suppose that Booth would say that that is the point even if that in itself is faulty reasoning. So, may I stay for a while? I will be quiet so you can rest."

"If you'd like," Sweets said, going back to staring out the window. They both fell silent, and Sweets slowly rolled over onto his side so he could face away from her, mindful to keep his blankets wrapped around him so that he wouldn't expose his back.

'_I'm sorry Peter, but I had to do that,' _he thought. '_You needed to get back to your own life, and now you'll be free to do so. Eventually the others will give up and move on as well. Then I'll be alone again…which is probably how it should be.'_

Sweets shivered and buried himself farther under the blankets. He tried to focus so he could make sense of his jumbled thoughts and emotions, but the only result was pain slowly seeping back into his heart, mind and body, replacing the numb feeling he had before. As he tried to fall asleep, he wondered if he would be able to convince Werner to let him have some more sedatives in order to get additional rest.

The therapist closed his eyes, wishing desperately that he could block the dark void inside him that only seemed to grow with every passing hour into something even more monstrous.

* * *

Out in the hallway, Booth paced back and forth in front of Wyatt, who was leaning against a wall, watching him.

"Gordon Gordon, what happened in there?" Booth asked, his hand on the back of his head. "I mean, what was Sweets trying to do?"

"Exactly what I thought he might do, I'm afraid," the chef sighed. "He's angry. Angry at Jensen for what he did to him, and angry at himself for letting it happen. Unfortunately the only outlet he has for this anger is to lash out at all of you. But more than that, he's trying to isolate himself."

"But he hasn't been like that with any of us," Booth said. "Sure, he's been a little short-tempered at times, but he's always apologized. Why was he so hateful toward Peter? I thought they were close."

"They are very close actually," Wyatt nodded. "And Doctor Sweets knows that it would take more than the inconvenience of taking care of him or some withdrawn behavior to drive his cousin away. So he did what was necessary to drive SSG Sweets away, ensuring in his mind, that he will be abandoned eventually."

"What did he say to you?" the agent inquired. "You know, before he left?"

"He asked me to make sure that you lot take care of Doctor Sweets while he was gone," Wyatt said. "And that he would be back before too long."

The chef then leaned against the wall, his eyes saddened.

"I can't say that I'm surprised by this," Wyatt said somberly. "SSG Sweets has been under a great strain, and I've been worried for a while now about the fact that he lacks a support system here."

"What about his family…Sweets' family?" Booth said. "I know Sweets' parents are gone but…"

"From what I understand, SSG Sweets has no other family, at least none he communicates with," Wyatt replied. "I'm sure there are friends, the type you would be familiar with you having had a similar vocation in the past."

Booth nodded and stopped pacing. While he was serving in the army, he had developed several close friendships, some of which he was lucky enough to maintain since moving to DC. He imagined that Peter would have his own group of friends, but started to wonder if he was able to contact any of them right now.

The agent suddenly lifted his head and started to back away from the chef.

"Gordon Gordon, could you give Bones a lift to the Jeffersonian when she's ready to leave and tell her that I'll meet up with her later?" Booth said as he started to leave.

"Of course, but may I ask where you are going and what I should tell the lovely Doctor Brennan?" Wyatt said.

"Tell her that I needed to run an errand," the agent called out over his shoulder. Wyatt watched him leave and shook his head. He had a notion of where Booth might be going and hoped that this "errand" would turn out for the best. He then moved to stand in the doorway again and slipped back into his role of the silent observer. As much as he wanted to do more, he knew that this was not the time to act.

For now, this was a waiting game, and if there was one thing Wyatt always had it was the patience to see such a game through to its inevitable end.


	34. Chapter 34

Author's Note: Next chapter. I hope to have another chapter up later this week, but don't hold me to it. :) We'll have to see how my academic schedule pans out...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Rankor01: **This is something that I think gets missed about Sweets' character: he understands people and thus, he understands how to hurt them. It's the other, darker side of the gifts he possesses. I agree about Brennan being a good person to spend time with him as you will see in this chapter...As for the rest of your review, you need to quit with the mind-reading...or am I getting that obvious? :)

**AnneWentworth: **I have a feeling that you're right about that. Sadly, Peter did get caught up in the demons that Sweets is grappling with, but as you will see, Peter is also made of some pretty strong stuff...Thanks for the review.

**Lives in the now: **As much as Sweets seems to cling, he does have a definite self-destructive streak that compels him to push away the people that he cares about. I suspect that it has a lot to do with the negative experiences he had as a child with his biological parents and then with his peers...Considering what you said about Brennan, I think you will enjoy this chapter. :)

**ASummer: **Thank you. Writing for Wyatt is always a delight. :) It's interesting how Sweets seems to be as adept as Brennan at rationalizing things in a "convenient" way that suits his line of thinking, something I wanted to illustrate here. Glad you enjoyed and hopefully you will also enjoy this update.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review as always. :) I could see Sweets having a hard time thinking straight in a situation like this, thus his flawed way of thinking. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**NCISMcAbbyISthebest: **No problem about missing the last chapter. Sometimes my fics can be kind of long and sporadically updated, so I'm always impressed and grateful when people continue to follow them. And yes, I am working on that sequel right now. I will probably try to finish up at least one or two of my other projects before I start posting it here. But I'm hoping that it will be up within a week or two of finishing this fic. Anyway, thanks again.

**Softballgirl05: **Thank you very much for your kind review. :) I'll admit to being nervous about introducing OCs like Peter, David and Carolyn Sweets to my fics at first because I'm usually big on staying within canon. I am thrilled that they have been received so well. I have many more fic ideas in mind, so I hope to keep writing for this fandom for quite a while...Again, thank you for your encouragement and I hope you will enjoy this update and my future projects.

**Rex01: **Thank you for your review of this and all of my work. :) Sweets is my favorite character as well (if that wasn't obvious) and it's always fun for me to hear from other fans...I've responded to a lot of your review in recent PMs, so mainly mention that I agree that sometimes what Sweets does can seem cruel, but there is often layers of meaning behind it...even if sometimes it's the result of his own insecurities and fears. Hopefully you'll enjoy this and future chapters as well. :)

**Scarlet2009: **Wyatt is pretty awesome. :) I really missed him this last season and really hope that he shows up in season seven. I agree that Peter needed a break...Unfortunately he has a tendency to try to take on everyone's burdens at his own expense (not unlike other OCs and canon characters). I agree that Sweets needs to hear exactly the kinds of things you mentioned...it's just going to be a matter of getting him to listen.

**Idreamofcoffeebeans: **If this were made into an episode of Bones, it would probably have to be in several parts. :D Myself, I'd be thrilled if they had an episode that included at least some of the stuff in this fic (Sweets' bio dad showing up, finally getting more info on his past, Wyatt making an appearance, everyone at the Jeffersonian rallying around him). But for now, I suppose there is always fanfic. :) Thanks again for the review.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 34

Almost four hours later, Sweets jerked awake from an uneasy sleep and found Brennan still sitting beside him, reading one of her anthropology journals.

The psychologist watched her, trying to remain as still as possible so that she wouldn't know that he had awakened. There was a nagging voice inside Sweets that pressured him to ignore her or to push her away too, but every time he parted his lips to speak another, more persistent piece of his heart urged him not to. The truth was that, despite the immense guilt and sorrow threatened to overwhelm him whenever he saw her, Sweets was soothed by Brennan's silent, pragmatic support.

He kept watching her until Brennan happened to notice him staring at her. She put down the journal she was reading, and turned in her seat so as to face him.

"Doctor Brennan? I thought you'd be at work by now," Sweets said, struggling to sit up.

"I have numerous personal days in reserve," Brennan replied. "So when Doctor Saroyan stopped by earlier to give me something to read, I asked her if I could use a few of them so that I could stay with you for longer periods of time."

"Doctor Saroyan was here?" the psychologist asked, confused. "I don't remember that at all."

"Most likely because you appeared to be entering the delta stage of sleep when she stopped by," the anthropologist said. "It would have been difficult to wake you up at that point. Plus, Cam and I tried to be as quiet as possible because you need adequate sleep in order to recover from your injuries."

"You didn't have to do that," Sweets said as he decided to lie back down instead of sit upright.

"It's fine. It gave me an opportunity to catch up on a lot of reading that I've been meaning to attend to," Brennan said with a slight smile.

Sweets nodded and looked over to see that there was another tray of food waiting for him. He swallowed hard at the sight of it.

"The nurse brought that in for you a few minutes ago," Brennan said. "Do you think that sufficient time has passed for you to be better able to eat some of it?"

"Not really," the therapist said as he lightly pushed the tray a little farther away from him with his index finger. He then made a point of refusing to look at it in the hopes that the nausea that had suddenly appeared would start to fade.

"Then you probably shouldn't force yourself to eat," Brennan nodded. "Repeated vomiting is very detrimental to the health of your digestive track. Although, I think we should make the suggestion to Doctor Werner to add a nutrient supplement to your IV so that you won't become too malnourished."

"Perhaps," Sweets shrugged. He turned his face upward and stared at the ceiling. He was contemplating closing his eyes again when Brennan started to speak.

"Sweets, may I speak to you about something?" she asked. "That is unless you are feeling too tired to talk."

"No that's all right," Sweets said, slowly moving over to his side to face her. "What is on your mind?" Brennan moved her chair closer to the bed.

"I'm worried about Booth," she said. "I wanted to talk to you about it before, but at the time you were still in a coma." Sweets winced but gave her a nod to encourage her to continue.

"He won't talk about what is bothering him, but I've observed many signs of distress," she said. "Sleep deprivation, changes in mood, decreased appetite, and decreased ability to concentrate. Currently he is spending almost all of his time working at his office, so I am not concerned about a possible mistake in the field. But I am worried about his long-term well-being."

"Agent Booth was recently involved in a taxing homicide investigation which included a particularly vicious criminal," Sweets responded. "It will take some time for him to readjust after the crisis."

"But Booth has been involved in other cases with even higher body counts and other violent offenders," Brennan said. "Those didn't upset him as much as this one seemed to. It…it was more like the Howard Epps case."

Brennan paused and looked down for a moment, her expression solemn.

"When Epps escaped and did things like send that heart to Angela in a package and make vague threats toward Parker, Booth took it much harder and more personally than he normally does," she said. "It seemed to be less about the case and Epps himself and more about how I and everyone else around him were affected."

Sweets shivered, and Brennan stood up and grabbed the comforter on his bed, carefully avoiding any physical contact. She then pulled the blanket up closer toward the psychologist so she could tuck it around his shoulders before sitting back down.

"I think Booth feels guilty that Jensen was able to get to you," she said. The therapist shuddered again and quickly looked down toward the floor.

"It…it wasn't his fault," Sweets said in a near whisper. "Andrew had been wanting to ki—to kill me for years. He spent a lot of time planning out his revenge and finding ways to avoid getting caught."

"I concur," Brennan replied. "Booth did everything he could. I know that he spent hours at the Bureau going over every single lead he was given. He questioned and re-questioned every witness and suspect connected to the case. He even threatened a couple of them. During the entire time you were missing, I'm certain that Booth did not sleep more than five or six hours, and he would only eat what he could grab on his way to follow up on another lead. I don't understand why he feels guilty."

"Agent Booth is dedicated to his work and to helping others," Sweets mumbled, still staring at the floor. "He often feels compelled to work beyond what most would consider reasonable."

"Oh, I wasn't worried about his work rate while you were missing," Brennan said. "We were all working under a similar schedule at the lab." Sweets finally lifted his head, tears glistening in his eyes.

"You were?" he sniffled. Brennan's eyes shone with a mixture of sadness and confusion.

"Of course we were," she said. "Did you think that we wouldn't?"

"I…I…" Sweets' face turned red as he swiped at the moisture on his cheeks.

"Of course…I'm sorry," he warbled. "I didn't mean to imply that you don't care about the victims that are involved with the cases you help solve. In your own way, you're as passionate as Booth about finding ways to catch criminals and help others."

"That is true," Brennan replied. "But much like Booth, I found it difficult to remain completely objective on this case, and that was very troubling to me."

"Doctor Brennan, you don't have to say…."

"I know that objectivity and the ability to compartmentalize are important in order to remain rational enough to analyze the facts given to us correctly and expediently," she interrupted. "But...there were a couple of moments when I did find myself longing for some kind of reassurance that we would find you and that the two of us would have a chance to talk like this again."

"Why?" Sweets asked, unable to stop himself from letting the question slip out.

"Over the years that we've known each other, I have observed that, despite your reliance on the soft science of psychology, you have helped our team become even more proficient at catching criminals. Also, you seem to possess a talent for understanding many of the emotions and behaviors of Booth and everyone at the lab," Brennan said. The anthropologist laid her hand down onto the blanket and next to the therapist's hand.

"I have also become very fond of you personally, Sweets," she said softly. "And if staying here by your bedside helps you in some way to recover from your ordeal, then I don't mind being here for however long you need, even if I don't completely understand it."

Sweets eyes filled with additional tears as he lay there, stunned by what she just told him. He looked down at her hand sitting beside his, and he longed to reach over to her, but managed to stop himself just as his fingers started to move. Instead he went back to picking tiny, grey balls of lint off his hospital gown.

'_It's a lie. She doesn't mean any of that,' _he thought to himself. '_She thinks I'm some kind of carnival huckster who makes lucky guesses…But….but Brennan doesn't tend to lie. Not about things like this…'_

The psychologist closed his eyes and put his face in his hands.

'_No, I can't let myself get too close. It was only because of a mandate from the Bureau that she worked with me in the first place. It all went wrong when I started to get too close…I already hurt her once…probably more than once. And I will probably hurt her again if I let her draw me in.'_

"I wouldn't worry too much about Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan," Sweets said, lifting his face from his hands and wiping his tears away. "I'm certain that he will eventually go back to his normal routines as time passes."

By the end of his statement, the psychologist's words started to slur together, and his eyelids drooped. His body was craving rest, even as he tried to resist it.

"Sweets, you should go back to sleep," Brennan said, moving her chair back to its former position. "It's clear that you're still exhausted. I can go back to reading."

Sweets thought again about asking her to leave, but found himself too lethargic to speak and too fragile to risk sleeping in his room alone.

"'Kay," he mumbled as his eyes slid shut. Within seconds he fell back asleep.

* * *

Right outside the room, Wyatt had watched this exchange with interest, not even shifting his gaze when Cam walked up beside him.

"Well I did as you suggested," the pathologist said. "I cleared it so that Doctor Brennan can go ahead and take some time off and spend some extra time here."

"Thank you," the chef said. "I appreciate your assistance in all this." Cam nodded and joined Wyatt in watching the two of them.

"She's good with him," Cam said. "Sweets barely talks to anyone any more, but she seems to be able to draw him out and even get into a conversation with him."

"You seem surprised," Wyatt said, raising an eyebrow.

"Somewhat, I will admit," she replied. "Doctor Brennan hasn't exactly been secretive about her feelings in relation to psychology. I know that they are friendly to each other, but I never thought that they were very close."

"Ah, but what you're describing are just the surface details," Wyatt responded, raising a finger. "The truth is that there is a very strong bond between them."

"Really? I knew that Sweets was pretty close to Booth, but I didn't think that it extended to her quite so much."

"They understand each other on an intuitive level," Wyatt explained. "Two lost children…desperately searching for family. Both of them knowing what it's like to be misunderstood by many and to be ostracized by their peers. Both of them knowing what it's like to be truly alone in the world. Those two…they draw much in the way of succor from this family that you lot have built around each other."

"I guess I never thought of it that way," Cam said quietly. "Brennan bickers with him so much."

"Yes, well that's part of the game between them," Wyatt smiled. "Not unlike the one that plays out between him and Agent Booth. And while it's true that it was Booth who opened the door to allow Doctor Sweets into your lives, when I informed the two of them about how much their young friend needed them, it was Brennan who urged Booth to help her 'find a permanent place', as it were, for Doctor Sweets in their lives."

"I had no idea," Cam said, shaking her head.

"But that shouldn't be too surprising," the chef added. "Both Doctor Brennan and Doctor Sweets tend to keep their deepest feelings and secrets close to their hearts, as I'm certain you will attest to."

"You're right about that," Cam said, finally cracking a smile. Her smile soon faded though as she watched how restless Sweets was even as he slept.

"Chef Wyatt, do you think she can get through to him?" she inquired. "Doctor Werner mentioned that Sweets isn't eating and that he's barely sleeping. I'm not an actual physician, but I can tell from here that he's getting weaker."

"Sadly, I don't think she can. Not right now, anyway," Wyatt sighed. "There is something else at play between the two of them. Something that is creating a barrier that I doubt Doctor Brennan will be able to breach on her own."

"So what can we do?"

"For the moment we will have to wait and continue to care for him the best we can," Wyatt answered. "When the moment presents itself, we must be ready to act."

"And how should we go about doing that?" Cam asked.

"You are all doing what needs to be done for now," Wyatt said. "There is one last piece of the puzzle, but I am confident that Agent Booth is taking care of it now as we speak."

Cam nodded and went back to watching the silent figures in Sweets' room. Despite the quiet scene, she couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency, and she hoped that Booth would be successful in whatever task he had been entrusted with.

* * *

It had taken nearly a day of searching, but eventually Booth was able to get a lead on Peter's movements since his departure from the hospital. Along with taking some time to rest and wandering around DC, the soldier had been involved in some kind of secret meeting with some high ranking Army officials at Fort McNair. Booth tried to find out more, but couldn't get anything else out of the contacts he still had within the Army.

After that, Peter disappeared for a while, but a conversation with Cam gave him the inspiration to look around some of the more familiar haunts, including the Founding Fathers. Booth walked inside the bar and found Peter sitting at a table in a back corner, nursing a generous glass of scotch. The agent ordered a drink of his own and carried it over to the table.

"Mind if I sit here?" Booth asked. Peter looked up at him, a bemused expression on his face.

"Agent Booth," he said ruefully. "Go ahead and sit if you want…Lance told me that you are good at tracking people down. I guess he wasn't kidding around when he said that." The soldier lifted his glass to take another drink when he hesitated, worry clouding his features.

"Is Lance all right?" he asked, his hand starting to tremble. "He's not…?"

"He's ok," Booth assured him. "At least, as ok as he can be right now."

"Thank God," Peter replied, lowering his head. "The last day or so, I kept thinking…worrying that I'd come back to visit and all of you would be there to tell me that…that he's…." The soldier stopped and finally took a long swallow of his drink. He then sat it down onto the coaster and tore at the edges of a napkin that was laying on the table.

"Where have you been?" Booth asked.

"That's none of your business," Peter snapped at him, anger lighting up his eyes. Booth nodded and took a sip of his own drink.

"Fair enough. I'm not your superior. You don't answer to me," Booth said. "But I do happen to know that you met with some pretty important people at McNair. So what's the deal? Are you planning on going back overseas?"

"No," Peter said, slumping in his chair. "My superiors wanted to know what my situation was…and I needed to make some decisions about my future. That meeting was a way for me to square things with them."

"And were you able to settle things?"

"For the most part, yeah," Peter said. "It's not what they were originally hoping for, but we worked out a compromise that I think will be best for everyone in the long run. I'm not walking away, if that's what you're worried about. I just needed some time for that…and to think."

"I figured that," Booth said as he lifted his beer to his lips.

"You did?"

"Peter…I know that we haven't always seen eye-to-eye ever since we've met, but if there's one thing I've learned from all my years in the Army and at the Bureau, it's how to spot character or a lack thereof in other people," Booth responded. "I have no doubts as to your character. I knew you would be back eventually."

The agent leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Listen about Sweets…I know that he said something out of line to you," Booth continued. "But…I'm pretty sure that he cares about you."

"I know," Peter mumbled. "Agent Booth, I'm sorry. I've been difficult and short with you and there's no excuse for it."

"Accepted, but I'm not here for an apology," Booth said. "I uh…I was wondering how you were holding up after…you know…"

"I appreciate that," Peter said with a wan smile. "I'll be fine. Really."

Booth nodded and the two of them went back to their drinks while watching the other patrons mill about the bar. He didn't really want to pry, but there were a couple things that Booth couldn't shake out of his mind.

"Peter, what Sweets said before," he said. "What did he mean by…?"

"Vincent Sweets is my father," Peter answered, anticipating the question. "Was my father. He died when I was nine. He was Uncle David's baby brother."

"You were close?"

"He…he was everything a kid hopes for in their dad, you know?" Peter said. "Strong, smart, caring. He was a lot like Uncle David, actually, and Lance can tell you what it's like to have a father like that."

Booth nodded but said nothing, patiently waiting for Peter to continue.

"You know what the scary thing is? Lance was right about me," Peter his tone bitter. "I've spent my life trying to be the man that my father was."

"That's how it's supposed to be between fathers and sons," Booth said wistfully.

"I suppose so," Peter shrugged. "I know that's true for Lance too. He's often said that he wishes he could be more like Uncle David…It's strange. I've actually lived a little more than twice as many years without my father as I did with him, and yet sometimes I still feel like I could walk into a room and he'll be there, waiting to give me whatever support or advice I'll need. Sometimes I wonder if that will ever go away."

"What about the rest of your family? Mother? Siblings?"

"Mom changed after Dad died," Peter said. "It's like she tried to hold onto some part of him through me. Somewhere along the way, she ended up planning the rest of my life for me complete with college, an office job, and a wife, two kids and a dog."

"And I take it that joining the Army was not part of those plans?" Booth asked.

"Not at all," Peter grimaced. "We haven't been exactly cordial ever since I enlisted out of high school. I do have a sister, Elizabeth. We keep in touch sporadically, and she lets Mom know how I'm doing but… She's pretty much taken Mom's side on this, so we're not close."

"So Sweets is pretty much all the family you have," Booth said solemnly.

"Pretty much, yeah," Peter nodded. The soldier finished his drink in one last swig and regarded the agent carefully.

"You know, he respects you and cares about you," Peter said. "A lot actually."

"I know," Booth said, finishing his beer. Once he was done, the agent sat the bottle down and leaned toward Peter, making sure to look him in the eye.

"Look Peter, Sweets…he's family to all of us," he said. "And you need to know that any family of his is family to us as well. You got me?"

"I get you," Peter said, a grin finally starting to form. "Thank you…all of you…for that."

Booth nodded and the two of them ordered another set of drinks. While they waited, they watched the other people come, go and converse with each other. After their drinks arrived, they enjoyed them in silence for a few more moments.

"Booth…Lance is a strong person, but I don't think if he can handle this on his own, despite what he seems to believe," Peter said.

"Are you giving up on him?" Booth asked.

"No."

"Then neither are we," Booth assured him.

"That's good but…I hate this…this feeling so helpless," Peter said through gritted teeth. "There's got to be some way to get through to him."

"I think Gordon Gordon is working on that right now," Booth said. "If anyone can figure Sweets out, it's him."

"Well I hope he figures out something soon," Peter said. "Because I don't know how much longer Lance can continue on like this. I'm worried that something is about to break."


	35. Chapter 35

Author's Note: Success! :) I was able to clear out enough time to get this chapter out there. I hope everyone enjoys this update and has a great holiday weekend. :D

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Rankor01: **Thank you for your reply to my comments from before. :) I sometimes worry about being a little too leading with my prose, but like you, I hate it when authors throw things into a story from out of the blue which make no sense whatsoever. I firmly believe in writing my fics in such a way so that my readers can follow the path of my story without being blindsided by illogical plot twists...I've always thought that Brennan's comments and actions in Mayhem were very telling in how she feels about Sweets: despite her heckling (which is frequent in this episode), there is a lot of caring there. The TDitP episode from this last season finally confirmed my suspicions that Sweets recognizes this and that he deeply cares about her as well. As I get more comfortable writing for Brennan, I've discovered that I love exploring the dynamic between the two of them...And you are also right in suspecting that things are building to a climax...

**Daryl Ann: **Thank you. Believe me, I am enjoying the chance to update a little more often right now...even though I'm certain that that will change soon.

**Fearlee: **Sadly, I don't think you'll be much happier by the end of this chapter. But just so you'll know, things will start to turn around again very very soon.

**ASummer: **Thank you for the review. As I was drafting the previous chapter, it occurred to me that much of what Brennan had to say could be applied to Sweets and thus I decided to write it from that perspective. Again, I'm thrilled that everyone seems IC and vivid to you. I confess that I sometimes try to imagine each chapter as a scene from an actual episode in my mind before I write to see if it feels like a moment from Bones or not. So it's always gratifying to me that others can do the same. I hope you enjoy this update.

**AnneWentworth: **I agree that there is more than bickering between Sweets and Brennan. And I find that I enjoy the idea of Booth and Peter hanging out together. I think they could be good friends considering how much they have in common...that is if they learn to not let their similarities cause friction. :)

**D: **I actually envisioned Sweets lying back against his bed with the bed itself raised in a more upright position. I see now that I should have made that a little more clear...Your chair analogy is a good one, I think and I agree with your comment about Wyatt being a master carpenter when it comes to mending complicated relationships. :)

**Rex01: **Thank you. :D As much as I'm partial to Sweets/Booth moments on the show, I will admit to also having a soft spot for Sweets/Brennan. I kind of see Sweets as the middle ground between B&B and thus, I believe that Brennan and Sweets also have much in common even if they won't always acknowledge it...I tend to agree with one of my psychology professors who told me once that figuring out oneself is a difficult challenge even with psychological training...and thus Sweets is not immune. :) But fortunately he has some very smart friends to help him along.

**Softballgirl05: **Thank you for the review. :) I agree that both Brennan and Sweets and Booth and Peter have far more in common with each other than what might appear on the surface. These commonalities can cause friction at times, but can also create strong friendships. And yes, Wyatt is simply amazing IMO. I love having him around in this one. :)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 35

The next day, Sweets ended up spending a couple of hours, during the afternoon, alone, and he was pleased with this turn of events.

It gave him the solitude he needed to do what he knew had to be done.

* * *

_Brennan spent most of the afternoon and evening on the previous day with Sweets until Doctor Werner showed up to check up on his condition. After she finished examining him and going over his charts, the therapist asked her for the chance to shower and shave, having felt unkempt and dirty for the last couple of days. Eager to help him feel more comfortable, Werner made arrangements for a nurse to come to his room to assist him._

_The short walk into the bathroom proved to be an arduous one as this was the first time Sweets had left his bed since arriving at the hospital. His legs shook as he hobbled about, the nurse helping to hold him up with one arm while the other tried to use one of the crutches he had been provided with. He eventually made it there, but was mortified to discover that he needed the nurse's help to remove his gown and his bandages and to prepare him for his shower. She detached his IV line, while still leaving in the cannula, and placed a plastic sleeve over his cast so that it wouldn't get wet. Fortunately, there was a seat within the shower stall itself, so Sweets was able to insist on some privacy once he was ready to go in._

_The nurse left the room and the psychologist looked at himself in the mirror, shocked at what he saw._

_His face was pale and gaunt, the only color being the large, dark circles under his eyes and the stubble that was growing in on his cheeks. His torso still had numerous angry, red marks from where he had been burned, and his ribs were starting to show. Instinctively, he reached for his shoulders when a new thought hit him. Terrified of what he would find, but unable to stop himself from looking, Sweets picked up a small hand mirror from the sink and turned his back toward the larger mirror on the wall. He saw the familiar scars he had had for most of his life along with new ones…identical ones…that were still healing and that looked permanent. _

"_Mr. Sweets? Are you all right in there?" the nurse asked as she slapped at the door._

"_I'm fine," he choked out as he put the mirror back and the counter and turned the water on in the shower. He stumbled inside quickly after that, caring little about the temperature of the water. _

_As he went through the motions of cleaning himself, Sweets sniffed and hiccuped several times, but no tears fell. Every torture that Andrew had inflicted on him was re-played in his mind as he traced his hands along his body. The fresh wounds and scars acted as tangible reminders of the nightmare he had recently been through and now Sweets was thoroughly convinced that they would force him to relive those memories for the rest of his life. Jensen had once again managed to leave his mark on him, branding him as broken and steeped in darkness._

_The psychologist finished washing himself, and the water turned frigid, but he did not move from where he sat. He was actually longing for the release that crying could give, but was horrified to discover that he couldn't bring himself to shed even one tear. All of his emotions, other than fear, were starting to feel leaden and atrophied. _

_It suddenly occurred to Sweets that the nurse might wonder about how long he was taking, and he started to breathe deeply in an attempt to swallow down his tears._

"_Mr. Sweets, are you almost finished?"_

"_I'm coming out now," Sweets shouted back, shivering as he turned off the water. He was able to grab a towel and cover himself minimally before she burst into the room. The nurse assisted him out of the stall and proceeded to help him dry off and re-dressed his ribs and back. She then accompanied him on his wobbly walk back to the bed._

_Unwilling to look her in the eye by this point, Sweets turned his gaze upward while she applied shaving cream to his face and ran a razor along his cheeks. During one of the times that she turned away to rinse the blade, Sweets swiftly grabbed one of the other razors from her kit and concealed it into the folds of his sheets. The nurse soon finished, thankfully leaving him with no nicks or cuts. After she left, the therapist ran a hand along his face, satisfied that he felt a little more like his former self, appearance-wise at least._

* * *

Sweets sat up and pulled and tissue wrapped bundle from under his pillow. He unwrapped it and stared at the razor nestled inside, his fingers stroking the plastic handle.

* * *

_After his shower was over, Sweets was concerned about getting to sleep. Even with someone else in the room, the therapist still suffered from nightmares that usually made him cry out in his sleep, scream himself awake, and even urinate in his bed. He had been able to hide the last symptom while they still had him attached to a catheter, but earlier that day they had removed it and Sweets was concerned about what might happen when he tried to rest._

_Before Hodgins could show up to stay with him, Sweets begged Werner for some more sedatives under the guise of trying to get additional sleep, but she had been wary of administering them. The doctor eventually relented under the conditions that they be used sparingly and that he would have to eat at least half of what he was given from this point on. The therapist agreed and another tray of food was brought in minutes later. _

_Sweets made a grand show of eating a couple of bites in front of the nurse, but the moment she left, he shuffled his way to the bathroom and scraped half of what was on his plate into the toilet. The effort left him shaking from exertion by the time he made it back to his bed, but he hoped that it would have the desired effect._

_Werner returned about thirty minutes later and, satisfied with the amount of food that was missing from his plate, she went ahead and gave the psychologist a sedative, but made a mental note to inform Wyatt of what she was doing._

_Hodgins showed up not long after the drug started to take effect. The entomologist appeared concerned, but Sweets didn't spend much time thinking about that. All he cared about at that point was the chance to spend a few more hours lost in a fog of detached, senseless nothingness. A small rational voice inside him pointed out that resorting to drugs to numb emotional pain was not healthy, but Sweets found that he could ignore that voice after a while. For the most part. Instead he focused on the fact that he would probably end up having a dreamless slumber, something that almost made him smile._

* * *

Sweets stopped moving his fingers along the handle and picked the razor up, clenching it in his fist. He then smashed it against the side of his bed, cracking the plastic in several places. The psychologist tore at the jagged edges of the razor head and was able to liberate one of the blades from its casing. Sweets wrapped the rest of the pieces up into a tissue and threw them into the wastebasket beside his bed. He cupped the blade into his palms and held it up close to his chest, watching the light glint along the edges.

* * *

_The therapist had ended up getting almost five hours of sleep, but the sedatives wore off quicker than he expected. He started to dream and those dreams swiftly became nightmares. He woke up with a strangled cry in his throat and a humiliating wetness in his sheets. He was marginally grateful that he hadn't managed to stain the comforter that Brennan had given him, but that did not lessen the embarrassment he felt in having to ask a nurse for a change in his bedding with Hodgins sitting nearby. Even worse, the dampness and the acidic smell reminded him of when he was trapped in that basement with Jensen, confined to a bed and forced to lie in his own urine._

_The nurses had been quick and discreet in cleaning up the mess, and Hodgins had been careful not to speak about what had just happened while trying to deflect attention away from it by telling Sweets about a case that was developing at the lab. _

_But none of that could slow the growth of the gaping hole that continued to build inside him. _

_The therapist spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, unwilling to speak or move. He tried to listen to the words that Hodgins was telling him as a way to distract himself from his own thoughts, but to his horror, his thoughts were becoming increasing confused and jumbled. The only thing that was consistent was the sound of Andrew's laughter mocking him._

* * *

Sweets continued to play with the razor blade in his fingers, flipping it around and around. He thought again about yesterday and all the days since he had woken up from his coma and saw no relief in sight for the physical, mental and spiritual pain that he felt.

Decision made, the psychologist grasped the blade between his fingers and moved the sheets away from his left leg. He then lifted his gown, exposing his thigh and placed a finger near the location of the femoral artery.

'_One cut…that's all I'll need,' _he thought. '_One cut and that will be it. No one's supposed to be here for at least an hour, and I'll bleed out in moments. Then I'll be free: of Andrew, of the pain, of the emptiness. One cut…and this nightmare will finally be over.'_

Sweets placed the blade against his skin at the point he had marked with his finger, but hesitated, his hands starting to shake. He tried taking deep breaths and repositioning the razor, but could not bring himself to follow through with it.

'_Go on,' _Andrew's voice taunted. '_Do it. _ _Just one cut. Or are you too scared? Too scared to stop being selfish and do what you should have done years ago? Why won't you do the honest thing for once in your life? Admit that you have no more right to survive than I did.'_

'_Yes,' _Sweets thought, his hand finally steady. '_Andrew was right. I'm no different than him. He hurt so many people. So have I. This needs to end here.'_

He closed his eyes and started to press the blade against his flesh when a loud clap caught his attention. Startled, his eyes flew open, and he dropped the razor onto the bed. He looked around for the source of the sound, but was surprised to find the room empty.

Sweets then glanced down at the floor and saw that one of the framed photographs Angela had placed in his room had fallen, face first, onto the floor. Straining, he leaned over the side of the bed and dragged the frame toward him with his fingertips. Once it was close enough, he picked it up, amazed that the glass hadn't shattered or even cracked.

The psychologist reclined back in his bed and held the picture close to him. It was a photo of him as a child, sitting between David and Carolyn.

Sweets' hands started to shake again as he stared at the picture. Even though it had been years, he could still remember the day this photo was taken.

* * *

_It had been right around his eighth birthday, his first as a Sweets. David had decided to go all out for the occasion and, in additional to the private birthday party the three of them had which included numerous presents, he arranged for them to take a weekend trip to DC. There they visited several monuments and attractions, including ironically enough, the Jeffersonian. _

_At one point they were standing by the Lincoln memorial, and Carolyn managed to get another visiting family to take a picture of the three of them together, the picture Sweets was holding now. After it was over, they went to a nearby bench, and both of his parents took turns embracing him._

"_I hope you are enjoying your birthday, baby," Carolyn said, kissing his temple as she let him go. "We wanted it to be special because we are so happy that you are part of our family."_

"_I am," Lance grinned. "It's been great."_

"_Good," David grinned back at him as he pulled his son close. "I want you to remember this Lance. Remember how you felt today and how much your mother and I love you."_

"_I will, Dad," Lance said, his tone serious. "Forever and ever."_

"_That's right sport," his father nodded. "Forever and ever. Now let's go check out the Jeffersonian. There's some stuff there that I know you'll enjoy."_

* * *

Sweets felt his eyes grow moist, but he still could not cry. He focused on that memory and had a hazy recollection come to him about being with his father recently while he still was in a coma.

'_Remember, we will always be with you…'_

Suddenly, the psychologist looked down at the razor and picked it up while still holding onto the picture with his other hand. He thought back to when he was a teenager and had attempted suicide before. As bad as the days leading up to that were, they couldn't compare to the anguish Sweets felt at seeing the sorrow he had caused his parents. He eventually apologized to them for his actions, and David had made him promise to never do such a thing ever again.

Sweets looked again at the razor and sniffled as he realized how close he came to breaking that promise.

The therapist sat the picture down and grabbed some more tissues from his stand so he could wrap the razor into a neat bundle which he sat under his watch. He then picked the picture back up, cradling it close and laid back down on his side, curling up into a fetal position.

'_Mom, Dad, I'm sorry,' _he thought. _ 'I'm sorry that I…'_

Sweets gripped the frame and closed his eyes. He knew that he wouldn't be able to kill himself, but he was also faced with the reality that he was rapidly losing the will to live. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do, his thoughts swirling about and fading before he could get any sort of firm hold on them.

Brennan walked back into the room with another stack of journals on her arm, but Sweets hardly noticed. He was already lost within his own desperate search for any kind of solution.

* * *

Later that evening, Wyatt walked into the psychologist's room and was disturbed by what he saw.

Sweets had his bed upright while still in a reclining position and was staring at a wall, alone. There were beads of sweat forming on his brow, and his eyes had an unnatural shine to them. The chef suspected that that was a combination of unshed tears, fear and a slight fever starting to form. Those eyes were starting to look sunken above cheek bones that were too clearly defined and surrounding by skin that was a sickly pale grey in tone.

But what struck Wyatt the most were the therapist's hands: fidgeting at a near constant rate, fingers clasping and unclasping when they were picking at his blankets and gown. The former psychiatrist was certain that this was not simply a nervous habit, but a symptom of a deeper problem.

Wyatt paused by the door, working to maintain a neutral but cordial expression on his face. He was aware that confronting a gifted psychologist like Sweets was bound to be difficult despite his own considerable talents. There were precious few approaches and tactics that Sweets would not be thoroughly versed in himself, and the way he read others was frequently uncanny.

But Wyatt had never backed down from a patient…or a friend…who needed his help before and he wasn't about to start now.

"Good evening Doctor Sweets," he said as he entered the room. "Doctor Werner mentioned that you wanted to see me."

"Thank you for coming," Sweets replied, his voice devoid of any emotion. Wyatt nodded and pulled up a chair so that he could sit across from the therapist.

"Now, what may I do for you on this occasion?" the chef asked. Sweets hesitated, his fidgeting becoming more animated for a moment before he took a deep breath to calm himself. Sweets then reached into the folds of his sheets and pulled out something that was wrapped in tissues. He held it out and placed it carefully into Wyatt's palm. Wyatt glanced at the bundle and at Sweets before he slowly unwrapped the tissues to find a razor blade inside. The chef blinked hard at the discovery, but displayed no other reaction. Instead he looked back up at Sweets and waited in silence, determined to allow the psychologist a chance to explain himself.

"Don't worry, I didn't try anything and there won't be others," Sweets said, sensing the other man's thoughts. "I'm giving this to you so that…so that I can stop thinking about it."

"Well that is reassuring," Wyatt said as he re-wrapped the blade and gingerly placed it into one of his coat pockets. "But I'm afraid that statement isn't enough to ameliorate my concerns."

"What do you mean?" Sweets said, narrowing his eyes.

"Doctor Sweets, let me propose a hypothetical situation to you," Wyatt replied. "I have a friend: exceedingly bright fellow with a generous heart. Unfortunately, he's recently been through a horrendous trauma and is still in the process of recovering from it."

Sweets sank further into his bed. He remained silent, but his chocolate eyes started to turn black with repressed rage.

"This young friend of mine, he's not eating, he's not getting enough rest, and he's done everything he can to pull away from his family, all of whom care about him deeply," Wyatt continued. "Recently, I have come across evidence that leads me to suspect that he is also self-medicating in an attempt to deal with his distress."

Wyatt watched as the therapist's hands balled up into fists, his fingers bunching up the sheets as they clenched tight.

"If this was one of your patients, what sorts of opinions or theories might you formulate?" Wyatt asked.

"I wouldn't have any," Sweets said coolly. "Not enough data. Perhaps he had suffered other traumas in the past, and that is affecting him now. Or perhaps he has his reasons for withdrawing from his family. Who's to say how close they really are to him? And a suspicion of self-medicating is not a useable fact."

Sweets scooted himself up and glared at the chef.

"I know that as a former psychiatrist, you are aware of the danger of jumping to too many conclusions," the therapist said.

"I am," Wyatt conceded. "But years of experience have also taught me how to recognize the peril in allowing indecision and a need for a perfect evaluation to paralyze me from preventing a patient or a friend from damaging themselves beyond repair."

Sweets closed his eyes, his knuckles turning white as he pushed his fists into the mattress.

"Stop…just stop this," Sweets spat. "I told you that there wouldn't be any more actions like…like that. Why can't you let it go at that?"

"Why on earth do you think I should?" Wyatt asked, slightly incredulous. "You may have eliminated any immediate suicidal thoughts, but the fact remains that you are not addressing the underlying causes for them."

"Are you saying that I don't know my own mind? Or that I can't handle this myself?" Sweets replied, a challenge evident in his voice.

"I'm saying that you have suffered a terrible experience," Wyatt answered calmly. "That along with hunger, lack of sleep and injuries that you're still recovering from, may be making it extremely problematic for you to maintain an unbiased judgment or to think rationally."

Sweets' eyes flew open, and he opened his mouth to reply, but stopped himself just as he started to form words. Instead he took another deep breath and opened his hands. As his fingers went back to their nervous dance, resignation settled into his eyes.

"You're right," the therapist said. "I can't go on this way. That is why I called you here. I need your help."

"Right. So where do you want to start?"

"I know that you are no longer a practicing psychiatrist, but you worked in the field for years," Sweets continued. "I know that you're still respected among your peers, and that you still have many contacts."

The psychologist pulled himself up to sit completely upright in bed and leaned toward Wyatt.

"I'm not sure if I can trust myself anymore," Sweets said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Therefore, I need to be institutionalized. And I need you to help me find the right place and to put me in touch with people who can make that happen."


	36. Chapter 36

Author's Note: Next chapter. At the rate I'm going, I'm thinking that this fic will be finished by the end of the month. At least, I hope that's how it goes. :) I'm working on the sequel now, and again, hopefully I will have the first chapter of it up not long after this fic ends. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this nice long update. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It's always appreciated.

**Lives in the now: **No, I don't mind. I imagine that things appear just as you say from my reader's perspective simply because it probably does seem like things should have been getting better by now. I'll admit that sometimes it's hard for me to visualize that because I have the perspective of knowing how things will unfold and am in the process of planning how the sequel will play out. In other words, I already see the strength and triumph that you're referring to, whereas my readers can't because I haven't posted that far. Since I picture Andrew being kind of an "arch-villain" in Sweets' world, an epic confrontation with him would stir up more than just what was done to him recently. I could see it bringing many unresolved issues to a head (as will be illustrated in this chapter). The point of inflection was Sweets realizing that he needed help. Now it's a matter of pointing him in the right direction...

**Super Ario: **I kind of figured that the last chapter would be a visceral one to read. I almost put a warning on it, but didn't want to give too much away. As I mentioned to **Lives in the now **I picture Andrew and his actions stirring up many things inside Sweets that were brewing for a while which would push him closer to the edge. However, I also don't see him as the same person he was when he thought about suicide the first time and wanted to show that growth...I get your conflict with me though. I've had other readers alternate between calling me talented and a psycho, so I'm getting used to it. :)

**D: **I agree that Wyatt has no problem with disposing of the whole "affable Englishman" bit (as **Rankor01 **so eloquently put it) when he feels the situation calls for it. I kind of see him in a mentor kind of role, different from how Booth and the others play the part. I believe that Wyatt sees the future of his former field in people like Sweets and is trying to guide it along...Hmmm, you have a point about the razor. But then again, since they allow unrestricted visitation here, I imagined heftier razors. :) Or perhaps you could say that Sweets isn't exactly in a rational state of mind when he picked his method of choice...

**Rankor01: **Considering the struggle Sweets has faced in being taken seriously in his profession, I could see him being somewhat defense of being "shrinked" himself even though it's what he's dedicated his life to. Out-thinking other respected minds within his field can act as a sort of a perverse way to "prove himself". Plus, I do believe it's pot-kettle-black when Sweets mentioned to Brennan that people only know her as "as much as she allows" and the idea of Wyatt getting inside his head so skillfully must be unsettling...As this chapter will point out, there is more than what lies at the surface with Sweets decision to seek this kind of help...

**ASummer: **Thank you. I was a little unsure about the format of that chapter, so I'm glad you enjoyed how it was laid out. It seemed like the best way to build up to what I wanted to accomplish...Sadly, not all my updates will be so quick due to a grueling summer semester at college, but I hope to still put up at least one new chapter of one of my fics a week. So there's that I suppose. :)...I, too wish we could have a more Sweets-centric episode again in the same vein as Mayhem and am holding out hope for Season Seven...I hope your holiday was good and that you'll enjoy this_ long_ update.

**Scarlet2009: **Thank you. :) As to your question, this fic is supposed to be set within Season Five's timeline (no trip to Maluku, no Hannah, all squinterns still around) even though it's pretty AU at this point since these events would have drastically altered how Season Five played out. I haven't decided how (or if) I want to align my sequel to be more within the current canon and have some of the events from Season Six make their way into the storyline. I'll have to see how it goes while I draft it out. So in the world of this story, VKM is alive and well. :) We just won't see him in this fic.

**Softballgirl05: **I'll admit that it wasn't the easiest chapter to write either, thus why I decided on the back-and-forth sequence of scenes to alleviate some of the tension (although it does seem like I just added to it in the end). It would have been difficult if I hadn't done it that way and just had everything speeding to that one dark moment...I know this update wasn't quick, but I hope its length will make up for that. :)

**Fearlee: **As you will see in this chapter, we have reached the turning point...now it's time for others to act...

**Rex01: **No no, I don't really want to write deathfics. :) Even though I do like to add some suspense. And yes, like you pointed out, Sweets learned from what had happened before when he was a teen. He just needed a reminder of it...Although I must add that I loved how you connected the two fics and events together...As for the rest of your comments, you are onto something...Oh and thanks again for the review.

**AnneWentworth: **Again I'm really glad that my readers enjoyed the different format I used for the last chapter. It's the one that made the most sense to me and I was hoping that others wouldn't find the departure too jarring...You are right about Wyatt having an opinion and about being unsure as you'll find out in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 36

"Hey, how are you feeling, Sweets?"

Sweets blinked his eyes and stirred. It had about three hours since his conversation with Wyatt ended, and he had been left alone. In that time, the psychologist got about an hour and a half of sleep before hearing someone else walk into the room. Sweets hadn't moved at first, hoping that it was another nurse bringing or taking away his latest tray of food, but the familiar voice made him roll over toward the entrance to his room where he found Angela standing. The artist had a satchel over her shoulder and a smile on her face.

"Fine, thank you," he mumbled as he moved the bed up a little further. "How are you this evening, Ms. Montenegro?" Angela blinked at his stiff, strained tone, but kept the smile on her face.

"Sweets, you don't have to call me that," she said. "Angela is fine."

Sweets shrugged and rubbed his eyes. His fever had become more bothersome while he had been sleeping, and it was making him feel even more listless.

Uncertainty evident in her eyes, Angela looked around the grey, bare walls for a moment before clearing her throat.

"Aren't you going to eat more of that?" she said, tilting her head toward the tray of food that sat by Sweets' bed, untouched. The psychologist turned toward the window.

"Maybe later," he said.

"I get it. Hospital food does leave a lot to be desired," Angela nodded. "Hey, you know I could make you something. How about that? I'm sure Werner wouldn't mind. I have this recipe for paella…believe me, one bite and you'll…."

"I appreciate that, but no thank you," the therapist said. "I wouldn't want to put you out."

"It's no trouble. I've been thinking about making it for Hodgins anyway. I can whip it up tomorrow morning and…."

"I said no," Sweets snapped, finally looking her in the eye. At first Angela couldn't stop herself from flinching at the enraged look in the therapist's round brown eyes; however, she quickly recovered and gave him a stern look of her own.

"Sweets, you can't keep doing this," she said. "You need to eat or you won't get better. So you either start eating the stuff they're giving you here or let one of us bring you something. Either way, we aren't going to stand by and let you starve yourself."

"You don't have to do that," Sweets sighed as his expression softened. "I can make do with what they've got here. There's no need for you guys to feed me."

"Maybe we don't have to, but we want to, ok?" Angela said. "We love you, and we need you to get well."

Love. Sweets felt his heart constrict at that word. He wanted desperately to believe her…to believe that he was loved and that he was deserving of that love. He looked at her hands, longing for some kind of consoling touch from her. It was true that he was physically starving from a lack of food, but he was also emotionally starving from a lack of tactile reassurance and nurturing. It looked as if she might reach for him and he almost caved in to his craving, but he ended up shifting away from her.

'_If I give in, I'll only want more…more reassurance, more interaction, more from all of them,' _he told himself. '_I won't be able to stop myself. Better to remain distant and detached…the way I should have been in the first place.'_

The psychologist looked down at his lap while Angela settled into a chair beside the bed, placing her bag upon the floor.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Oh, it's ok," she said. "I know you haven't had much food or sleep here lately and with everything else you've just been through…well it's no surprise that you're a little cranky."

"No…I mean I'm sorry about that," Sweets said, pointing at the scratch on the artist's arm. "I'm sorry that you got hurt." Angela put a hand over the mark, the gesture not even registering in her mind until after she had done it.

"It's all right, Sweets," she said. "This wasn't your fault."

"But it was," Sweets insisted. "The only reason you got shot is because Andrew wanted to send me a message. If you weren't a part of my life, you wouldn't have been at risk."

"Maybe not that day or that moment, but any other day I could have just as easily been at risk because I'm friends with Brennan or because I'm involved with Hodgins," she said. "We catch criminals, Sweets. Sometimes that's not the safest occupation to have."

"This isn't the life you wanted," Sweets said, his eyes growing sad.

"It's not the one I imagined for myself, but if having the life I imagined means never having Brennan as my best friend or having Jack in my life or not knowing you, Cam or Booth…then I wouldn't want that life," Angela said. "It might have been a safer one, but it wouldn't have been complete."

Angela looked down at her lap and twisted her fingers about.

"Still…I can't say that I wasn't scared," the artist added. "Hodgins was freaking out, so I tried to be calm for him, but inside, I was shaking. If he hadn't been there to hold me at night, I don't think I would have been able to sleep."

She looked back up at Sweets, and his face fell even more at the sight of her anxious expression.

"I'd be lying if I said that I have been able to stop thinking about it," she said. "I'm not sure why that whole thing still scares me. I know that Jensen's dead and that he's not going to go after us anymore."

"It's not so strange," Sweets said. "What happened to you was traumatic and it's natural to feel some residual fear and to retain a sense of vigilance even after the threat has been removed. It will pass with time."

"Are you sure about that Sweets?" Angela asked. "Because I hate this feeling. I hate feeling so…apprehensive and jittery."

"But you're still living your life, correct?" the psychologist asked. "Or have you been considering abandoning your career or your social circle?"

"No. No of course not."

"Then you're doing just fine," Sweets assured her. "You'll probably feel somewhat anxious and cautious for a while, but eventually you will work past it. It's only when fear is dominating and controlling your life that you have something to be concerned about."

"You're right," Angela nodded. "I shouldn't worry about it. That'll just make it worse. Thank you Sweets." She leaned over to pat his shoulder, but stopped when he flinched again.

"You're good," she smiled at him. "And your advice is pretty good too. Maybe you should follow it some time." Sweets gave a brief thin smile in response before turning his face back toward the window.

"Thank you for visiting," he said as he closed his eyes. "But I'm really tired now."

"That's fine," she said, settling back against her chair. "Go ahead and rest. I'll be quiet." She pushed her chair and bag a few inches away from the bed.

The psychologist sighed, but did not protest, certain that his pleas for solitude would go unheeded.

'_She's humoring me,' _he thought. '_She's never taken me seriously before. Why should she start now? Women like that always laugh at me.'_

Sweets screwed his eyes even tighter shut, determined to keep his feelings hidden. He had thought that Angela was beautiful from the first day he met her. Beautiful, witty, open…an artist…a free spirit. Sweets couldn't deny being drawn to her even as he realized that she belonged with Hodgins. He marveled at the deep bond they had and never wanted to become even the smallest obstacle to it.

But somewhere inside him was the lingering idea that he could be happy if he could make a woman like that smile when she saw him, her eyes lighting up at his arrival. It was a dream that he had carried with him since his pre-teen years that persisted to this day.

'_But that's all it is. Just a dream,' _he thought as his thoughts drifted away. '_A sham. A lie. She's playing a game with me, but that's fine. I can play along.'_

* * *

Angela opened up her satchel and pulled out a sketch pad and a pencil. She thought about maybe doing a still life or a simple portrait to calm her nerves, but instead decided to just let her hand guide her where it needed to go. The result was disorganized shapes that had jagged edges which mirrored her own turbulent emotions.

A soft snore from the bed caused her to look up. Sweets was still facing away from her, but his breathing had become slower and more even. She sat her things down and got up to stand on the other side of the bed. There she found Sweets dozing fitfully, his hand still caught up in their nervous agitation.

'_He's so frail,'_ she thought. '_It's like something's eating away at him from the inside.'_

Her eyes growing wet, Angela gingerly reached for one of his hands and placed it into both of hers, her thumbs rubbing circles over the back of his palm. Sweets did not awaken, but his hands finally stilled.

Angela sniffed and moved one hand away so she could brush some stray waves of hair off the psychologist's face. She thought about how Hodgins had told her once that Sweets had confessed to him that had "a thing" for her at one point. She had acted surprised for Hodgins' benefit and for Sweets', but she had suspected it long before that.

She hadn't minded. Angela had secretly enjoyed the honest and earnest way that he sometimes lightly flirted with her and was warmed by the smile that he always had for her. The artist knew that Sweets wasn't going to act on his feelings, especially after he got together with Daisy. But deep down, she had hoped that she would never lose his playful affection for her: something more than friendship, but less than romance.

Sweets started to stir in his sleep, and Angela carefully put his hand back down onto the bed, lest he wake up. On a whim, she then picked up the dog she had brought him and placed it securely under the crook of his arm. The psychologist rolled slightly toward the plush animal, and she smiled at her handiwork.

That smile soon vanished, however, when she saw how his hands resumed their twitching and noticed a shiver working through his slumbering form.

Angela brushed a couple stray tears off her cheeks and went back to sit in her chair. She knew that Wyatt would be meeting with the others to plan their next move to help Sweets.

Right now though, she was struck with the need to pray that they weren't too late in their efforts.

* * *

Leaning against a wall in the front room of Brennan's apartment, Wyatt surveyed the scene in front of him.

Booth and Brennan were sitting together on the couch with Cam and Hodgins sitting in chairs across from them. All of them were mostly silent, only occasionally letting a couple of sentences pass between them.

A couple minutes later there was a knock on the door, and Wyatt opened it to find Peter standing outside. The soldier came in, and Wyatt was pleased to see that he looked calmer and a little more rested than the last time he saw him. Judging from the encouraging nods Peter received from the others as he settled into a chair of his own, the chef was certain that Peter was slowly integrating himself into their social circle, thanks in part to Booth's efforts.

"Hey, Gordon, Gordon, what's this meeting about?" Booth asked.

"Yeah, and why wasn't Angela invited?" Hodgins asked. "Before she headed off to the hospital, she said something about how you needed her there for some reason."

"I have already spoken to Miss Montenegro about most of what I'm going to discuss with all of you," Wyatt said, straightening his posture. "She agreed with my suggestion to stay with Doctor Sweets while we have this conversation." The chef paused to reflect on his next words. He was certain that what he had to say would not be easy for any of them to hear.

"I'm afraid that we have reached a critical point in our care of young Doctor Sweets," he continued. "Therefore, we have no more time to continue on this gradual approach to his recovery."

"What do you mean by 'critical point'?" Peter asked. Wyatt sighed and reached into his pocket to pull out the bundle of tissues Sweets had given him earlier. He removed the tissues to show everyone the razor at the center of it, eliciting gasps from everyone present.

"Now, let me assure you that there have been no actual attempts thus far," Wyatt added. "This was a moment of weakness for Sweets, a mistake he has admitted to. He is aware of how dangerous his thought processes were in that moment, and he is in no eminent danger."

"Even so…you shouldn't have let it go at that," Peter said, his voice trembling slightly in horror. "Lance should be on some kind of suicide watch or something….And why didn't you call me the minute you found out about this? I know you have my cell number."

"I have no intention of letting it go," Wyatt countered. "It's the reason I have gathered you all here. And as I mentioned, Doctor Sweets is aware of how rash his decision was when he contemplated suicide. I can assure you that he will take no further action in the near future. However, as an added precaution, I asked Ms. Montenegro to stay with him. She is aware of the situation, and her presence will act as a sort of safeguard against any more sinister urges that might arise."

The chef crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on a nearby stool so he could face everyone while he talked.

"What I'm equally concerned about is Doctor Sweets' viable if flawed solutions to his current dilemma," Wyatt said.

"Which are?" Booth asked.

"Doctor Sweets is considering abandoning his practice and his profession and has asked for my help in having him committed to a psychiatric institution," Wyatt answered. Stunned, the rest of them sat in silence for several minutes.

"Are we sure that his solution is flawed?" Brennan suddenly asked.

"Doctor Brennan, Sweets is thinking about throwing away everything he's worked for and checking himself into a mental institution," Cam said. "How could that not be flawed?"

"Sweets needs help," Brennan said. "If he believes in the field of psychology and its ability to help him, shouldn't he go to people who are experts in the type of care that he needs?"

"Your reasoning is excellent as always, Doctor Brennan," Wyatt smiled. "But I'm afraid you've made one crucial error in your assessment. You're assuming that Doctor Sweets is doing this to get the care that he needs…and I will admit that that does seem to be the case on the surface."

"He isn't?" the anthropologist asked.

"I'm afraid not, no," Wyatt said. "Whether he will admit to it or not, I suspect that this is yet another attempt to isolate himself while ignoring the underlying issues at hand. He's not taking this step to get better; he's doing it so as to make it easier for him to withdraw from the world."

"He wouldn't be safe there anyway, Bones," Booth said. "He's probably still thinking of hurting himself. It'll just be more gradual and subtle this way."

"Sadly, Agent Booth is being very astute in revealing the true extent of this situation," Wyatt nodded. The chef then turned his attention toward Peter.

"SSG Sweets, I realize that this is a terribly invasive question, but I must ask it," he said. "Has your cousin contemplated or attempted suicide before?"

Peter scowled and immediately looked away without saying a word.

"SSG Sweets, I understand your desire to keep certain aspects of your cousin's life private, and let me assure you that you can trust in the fact that nothing said here will ever leave this room," Wyatt said. "But it's vital that we understand the intricacies of what we are dealing with so that we can formulate the best approach to help Doctor Sweets."

Peter's shoulders slumped down in defeat as he hung his head down further. A lump had formed in his throat, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to speak around it. Thoughts of his cousin and what he was grappling with, however, eventually pushed him to lift his head and answer.

"Lance tried to overdose on sedatives when he was fourteen," Peter said. "He, uh…High school was hell for him and that along with the other stuff he had been struggling with for years…It was almost too much for him. Thankfully, Uncle David and Aunt Carolyn found him in time."

Noticing the shocked and saddened looks on everyone else's faces, Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Look, despite what happened today, that's not who he is anymore, all right?" the soldier said. "He was just a kid. A confused and hurting kid. He's stronger than that now."

"Peter," Cam said softly as she rose to her feet. "Trust me; none of us think any less of Sweets because of what you told us. We all saw what kind of bastard Jensen was and let's just say that we all are at least a little familiar with how cruel some people can be." The pathologist moved over and patted the soldier's forearm.

"If we seemed shocked, it's because none of us wanted to imagine Sweets going through that kind of pain," she said. "I know that I, for one, am just grateful that Sweets had caring people like you and your family in his life, and I'm sure that everyone else is with me on this."

"Doctor Saroyan, I'm sorry," Peter said. "And thank you for that."

"No problem Peter," she smiled at him. "We just want to help."

"SSG Sweets, may I ask, how did your aunt and uncle respond to what their son had done?" Wyatt asked.

"Lance had been seeing a psychiatrist," Peter said. "So he and my aunt and uncle sort of confronted Lance about it. I guess you could call it an intervention."

"Your uncle, was he a proponent of the so-called 'tough love' approach?" the chef inquired.

"Maybe a little but not….Uncle David believed in being firm but kind," Peter answered. "That's the type of man he was. He believed in Lance and was always letting him know how much he loved him…But he wouldn't hesitate to put his foot down if he thought that he needed to protect Lance from himself." Wyatt nodded thoughtfully before smiling at the soldier.

"Your uncle was a good man and a wonderful parent," he told him. "As I'm sure your father was as well."

Peter nodded and looked back down at the carpet while Cam gave his arm one last squeeze before returning to her seat.

"I believe that the approach that we need to take is clear," the chef said as he stood back up. "I suggest that we meet at the hospital tomorrow morning before we talk to him."

"Wait, that's it?" Hodgins asked as he got to his feet. "What are we supposed to say?"

"Ponder what SSG Sweets has shared with us tonight," Wyatt answered. "I am confident that will give you all of the guidance you will need. And I'll be there to go over a couple last details in the morning."

"I should check on Ange," the entomologist said, clearly unsatisfied. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Hodgins made his way to the door, and both Peter and Cam rose from their chairs.

"I think I need a drink," Peter mumbled.

"Care for some company?" Cam asked.

"Thank you again, Doctor Saroyan," the soldier said as he followed her out into the hallway.

"Please, feel free to call me Cam," the pathologist said as they walked off together.

* * *

Booth stood up to leave, but Wyatt stood in front of him.

"I need to talk to you two privately," he said.

"Why?" Brennan asked. Booth sat back down beside her, and the chef settled into one of the chairs across from them.

"I've watched Doctor Sweets over the past couple of days, and I've come to the conclusion that there is something specific that is weighing on him in regards to you two," Wyatt said. "To be more exact, the focus seems to be on Doctor Brennan. I need to know what it is that he's so concerned about."

"I don't know," Brennan replied. "He hasn't mentioned anything to me."

"He's not exactly conversational right now," Booth chimed in.

"Think carefully," Wyatt urged. "Was there a major disagreement or misunderstanding between the two of you? Something that wasn't resolved or that nearly tore your friendship asunder? Whatever it is, he is still carrying around a crushing amount of guilt over it, so it must have been a major transgression."

"Bones?"

"Booth…I think he's thinking about that time," the anthropologist said haltingly. "That time when you faked your death, and Sweets didn't tell me the truth about it."

"Excuse me?" Wyatt said, startled.

"Bones, don't bring that up," Booth said, his expression stony.

"But Booth, this has to be it," Brennan insisted. "Sweets experimented on us, and you put him in jail. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"What?" Booth growled, leaping to his feet.

"Agent Booth, sit back down," Wyatt said, his tone and features stern. "Doctor Brennan, please explain from the beginning how all of the events you just described came to pass."

Booth glared at the chef, but soon complied with his request while Brennan began to speak. She told Wyatt about the Nunan case, about Booth getting shot, and about the subsequent plot to keep his survival a secret. She then went over Booth's appearance at his own funeral and her assertion that Sweets had used the situation to conduct an experiment on the two of them. Finally she gave some brief details about the Gormogon case before concentrating on the events that led to suspicion falling on Sweets and in Booth jailing him for almost two days.

Throughout Brennan's narrative, Booth ground his jaw and gripped the fabric of the couch tightly with one of his hands. Wyatt noticed it in passing, but chose to ignore it in favor of concentrating on what Brennan 'was telling him. By the conclusion of it all, the chef was shocked and more than a bit morbidly curious as to how the three of them moved past all of this.

"So…if I am understanding this correctly, you believe that Doctor Sweets kept the truth about Booth from you in order to gauge your emotional responses to both his death and his eventual return?" Wyatt asked.

"Yes," she nodded curtly. "It had all the markers of a planned experiment."

"And neither she nor Doctor Sweets mentioned any of this to you?" Wyatt asked as he turned his attention toward Booth.

"He kept saying that it was some kind of national security issue," Booth grimaced. "Bones, why did you tell me about this?"

"I…with everything that was going on with the Gormogon case and then Zack," she answered. "I didn't think it was relevant at the time."

"Relevant?" the agent gasped. Wyatt held up a hand.

"Agent Booth," he warned again before looking back at Brennan. "Now, Doctor Brennan, how did you and Doctor Sweets resolve this issue?"

"I told him that he better not try anything like that again," she replied.

"But he didn't apologize?"

"No," Brennan said.

"No?" Booth said, his anger increasing. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"Did you forgive him?" Wyatt asked.

"I…I didn't say anymore about it," she said.

"So no then," the chef nodded. "And you Agent Booth?"

"And me what?" Booth huffed.

"Did you apologize to Doctor Brennan for your part in this deception?"

"She was supposed to know," the agent spat. "It's Sweets' fault that she didn't."

"I will take that as a 'no' as well," Wyatt sighed. "Should I also make the assumption that the three of you never really discussed your incarcerating Doctor Sweets for suspicions that ended up holding very little merit?"

"I apologized…sort of," Booth said. "Now I know that that was a mistake."

Wyatt sighed again and fell back against his chair, placing his hands on his knees.

"I believe that Doctor Brennan has turned our focus in the exact direction it was needed," he said. "There has been a severe breach of trust on all sides, and quite frankly I am amazed that you were all able to blithely ignore and cast aside the conflicts this all must have stirred up…Nevertheless, we can no longer indulge in such false luxuries. The time has come to broach this quagmire."

"No, I'm not doing it," Booth said, turning away.

"Booth, please. Wyatt says that we need to do this to help Sweets," Brennan said.

"Oh so now, you believe in psychology?" the agent snarled. "Funny, you never seemed to before."

"Agent Booth," Wyatt said. "You need to calm yourself."

"Why should I?" Booth said, indignant. "Sweets lied to me. He lied to Bones. And for what? To prove a point? To add another chapter to his dammed book?"

"To be quite honest, I doubt that any of us will ever know what line of reasoning led to Doctor Sweets' extremely ill-advised decision," Wyatt said. "Just like I doubt that you two will explain to me what system of logic was used to make both of you willing to view Sweets as capable of the ghastly crimes you accused him of. What I do know for sure is that the two of you must reach some kind of understanding with each other before we can confront our young friend."

Booth ran a hand through his hair and went back to staring at a wall.

"Booth?" Brennan said, placing a hand on his leg.

"How can you do that Bones?" the agent asked. "How can you just let it go like that? After what he did?"

"He made a mistake," Brennan explained. "I think he learned from it. I wanted to give him another chance. Can't you do the same?"

"I suspect that there is more at work here than some lingering animosity in regards to Booth's feelings," Wyatt mused.

"You mean like guilt?" Brennan asked. "But Booth, Sweets doesn't blame you for what happened to him. He said that it wasn't your fault."

Booth hung his head and placed his hand over the one she had sitting on his leg.

"I never meant to hurt you, Bones," he mumbled. "I wanted to tell you myself. I swear that I did."

"I know," she said, her eyes growing moist. Booth looked up at her and the two of them shared a meaningful stare that last a couple of minutes.

"Before we go on, I have one question for the both of you," Wyatt interjected. "Have either of you contemplated the uncanny parallel between the deception that was played out in the past between the three of you and Doctor Sweets' recent and very similar experience?"

Both Booth and Brennan turned toward the chef with stunned expressions that quickly melted into concerned ones brimming with sadness. Wyatt noted them and nodded.

"I don't intend to go over every single nuance of what happened," he said. "Some of that needs to be between the two of you alone. But we must reach some semblance of an understanding before we go through with our plans for tomorrow. Ultimately, the key question I have for both of you is this: in light of what has been discussed tonight, are the two of you willing to forgive Doctor Sweets and continue your familial relationship with him?"


	37. Chapter 37

Author's Note: Next chapter. I realize that I've been neglecting some of my other projects, and I apologize for that. I hope to get to one or two of them next week.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Super Ario: **I don't know about pointless, but I know that I tend to enjoy your reviews. :) As always, I'm thrilled that you find everyone to be IC. As for Wyatt. I will admit to being a little nervous about including him in this and actually went back and re-watched every episode he appeared in before I started writing this fic. Overall though, I've found him a delight to write for and I can tell you that he will be appearing in the sequel to this fic.

**Softballgirl05: **Much like with Brennan, I think it's easy to only see the bickering and teasing between Angela and Sweets. But as I recently re-watched various episodes from Seasons Three through Six, I noticed that there seems to be this dance between the two of them: Angela somewhat playfully mocking, Sweets coyly flirting a little with her while trying to give her advice. It's a different kind of hidden affection than what exists between Sweets and Brennan...I was thinking that something like this would force the Jeffersonian team to reflect on just how much they've come to see Sweets as part of their lives and thus wanted to explore how each of them came around to the idea of him being part of their family.

**Rankor01: **Hee, I always did like Sweets' "wiped from the memory banks" comment when he realized how scary Angela's dad could be. I've often thought that moment of fear made him have a very honest moment with Hodgins. But even before that, I think there were signs that he was attracted to her as shown by the way he often seemed concerned with looking somewhat "cool" around her (even though he usually ended up looking geeky instead)...This was something I was always disappointed about at the end of Season Three. They showed some reaction and a little resolution between B&B and between Sweets and Brennan about the whole thing with Booth faking his death, but I've often wondered how Sweets felt about being arrested by Booth and if Booth ever apologized for that. There was a lot going on there that I wish they addressed in later episodes. But I take some solace in knowing that I can play with the Sweets end of it here whereas you handled the B&B side of it superbly in your own fic. :)

**AnneWentworth: **I remember another Bones fanfic author mentioning that he/she liked to end chapters where they could picture commercial breaks happening and I tend to follow a similar policy. :) So yeah, I like cliffhangers, but to be honest I just try to end the chapter where I think it feels natural to do so...even though that sometimes creates really long chapters! The funny thing is that I've resolved my own feelings about the whole "experiment" thing to the idea that it **was** in character: it just didn't happen for the reasons that Brennan thinks it did. I go into that more in my The Transition of the Therapist fic, but, bottom line, I think there was some more stuff that needed to be said.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. :) The whole thing with Gormogon always felt like a huge unresolved plot-line for me, plus I thought it tied in well with this fic. I hope you enjoy this longer chapter as well.

**Lives in the now: **I was originally going to use the events in TPitH in a more general sense, but when I started to think about the coincidences of what Brennan went through and what Sweets just went through, I thought that this would be a great way to finally resolve that whole issue. As always, thank you so much for all of your reviews and support.

**ASummer: **Thank you for the review. :) Even though Sweets bore the brunt of what Jensen did, I thought it'd be good for him to have to think about how other people might have been affected by Jensen's presence. Besides, Sweets does seem to be the type who is better at giving solid advice than always following it himself...I think Angela can be a little rough on him at times, but I think she also has a more generous heart than what she sometimes lets on...As I was telling other reviews on this chapter, I think that whole thing with the Season Three finale involved a lot of hurt feelings that were not really addressed. I really can't think of anyone who wasn't in the wrong during that whole thing (except maybe Angela, ironically enough). I really do think the writers missed out on an opportunity to really dig into these characters there, so I wanted to try my hand at it...Oh and no problem on the replies. I love replying to reviews! :) One of the reasons I enjoy being on this site is because I get the chance to communicate with my readers, so it's a joy to write these author's notes back at you.

**D: **Oh no problem. Life happens. I've been known to have to play "catch-up" myself a few times with other people's fics. :) I agree with you that it won't entirely work without Booth making the decision to forgive Sweets. I also agree that part of the reason it's so vital is because he often looks to Booth for guidance to get through whatever difficulties he faces as he matures in life and in his profession But whether or not Booth will forgive him...you will get your answer in this chapter.

**Rex01: **Thanks for your review. Unfortunately we didn't get much interaction this season between Sweets and Angela or Hodgins, but I hope that will change in the next season. As it is, I did enjoy that lovely little diner scene from The Pinocchio in the Planter where Sweets and Angela were having breakfast together. It was very charming...I think the core of the issue here is that we are dealing with a group of people (B&B and Sweets) who all had difficult pasts and as a result, sometimes make mistakes with each other. What I find inspiring is that they always find a way to overcome those mistakes. While TPitH remains unresolved, I think often three of them find ways to quietly acknowledge their affection for each other even when they get irritated with each other. Yes, there was that moment in TCitC where Brennan was kind of harsh on Sweets, but then only a couple episodes later (Mayhem) she shares a story about her past as a way to bond with him. It's this kind dynamic that I love to explore in my fics.

**NCISMcAbbyISthebest: **Oh I don't think I could go a whole month without going online. Especially since some of my college work involves the internet. :) Anyway, thanks for the review. I'm glad you are enjoying Brennan because she's one of those characters that I have to really think about before I write anything with her in it. It's getting a little easier for me, but it's still somewhat challenging. I hope you enjoy this update too.

**Voiceless Night: **Wow! Thank you so much for your in-depth and very kind review of my work. :D There is so much there, I will probably end up sending you a separate review reply to your PM mailbox to respond to everything, but I will say here that I really appreciate your comment about how emotional my work is and how much I invest myself in my writing. I strongly believe that anyone who is serious about writing needs to be willing to give a piece of themselves to their readers through their work. It's a very personal, but important act, in my opinion. Granted this is a hobby for me, but I use the same principles for all of my written work, be it my original work or fanfic. I'm very happy that you've enjoyed my work thus far, and hope you will enjoy my future projects as well.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 37

Sweets could tell that Werner was having an intense conversation with Wyatt out in the hallway, and he half-heartedly wondered if it was about him again.

Angela had finally left his room early that morning when Werner came in to see how he was doing. His fever had risen from yesterday, and the doctor was worried that a severe infection might settle in. Werner decided to put him back on an IV of antibiotics and made a note for the nurses to monitor Sweets' temperature and vitals carefully.

Sweets cared little about this recent development, seeing it as just another event in a series which only served to prove that he wasn't getting any better. A large part of him was beginning to wonder if he would ever truly recover, physically or emotionally.

Werner had finished her examination and was walking out of the room when Wyatt met her in the doorway and pulled her aside to where she was now.

Sweets frowned as he watched them. He had been more than a little irritated for a while now that Wyatt, his co-workers and even his own physician were all invasively monitoring him and trying to make decisions for him all while discussing him among themselves. But by this point, he was starting to get used to the idea of being powerless to stop others from dictating what would happen to him.

'_I should get used to this anyway,'_ he thought. '_When I get placed into a ward, I will need to submit to their rules, their procedures, and their methods of therapy. There will be no room for resistance.'_

A flicker of gloom wormed its way into his heart as he thought about that. Sweets remembered vividly how there was a lot of talk about having him committed while he was still living at the orphanage. He was also painfully aware that the only reason he wasn't was because David and Carolyn had adopted him before they could go through with it.

'_They should have just gone ahead and done it. All Mom and Dad did was delay the inevitable.'_

The psychologist turned away from the scene in the hallway to look out the window again. After sleeping for a couple of hours, Sweets spent the rest of the night awake and staring at the ceiling. He was surprised that he wasn't more drowsy, but he was also too tired to sleep and too listless to care.

'_Whatever happens, happens. There's no stopping it. Wyatt and the rest of them…they'll do what they want and there's nothing I can do about it. But eventually…eventually, just like Andrew, they'll get bored and then they'll discard me.'_

Sweets let out a huge gust of air. The psychologist was worried that it had taken so much effort to string together anything that resembled coherent thought. He knew that he would eventually have to leave the hospital and then whatever institution he ended up in, but he felt unsure about making it on his own. Gradually he became more accepting of the idea.

'_Maybe then…once I'm alone. Maybe then I can start over. Find a new job, a new place to live. Then I can live my life and stop clinging to other people.'_

"Doctor Sweets?"

Sweets looked toward the door to see Wyatt and Werner walk into the room. Close behind him Brennan, Cam, Hodgins, Angela and Peter all filed in silently. The therapist blinked in surprise.

'_What's Peter doing here?'_ he wondered. '_I thought he had left.'_

That question quickly lost its importance, however, when one person's absence finally registered with Sweets.

The psychologist sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was angrier than he thought he'd be at the idea that the chef had set up some kind of confrontation for him, but the fact that Booth had decided not to attend defused a lot of that anger.

'_Looks like Booth has already given up…Or maybe he's finally had enough of me. Can't really blame him. I've done so much to make his life difficult…Might as well see what they want.'_

"What's going on?" the therapist demanded, his own hostile tone startling him.

"I'm merely carrying out your request," Wyatt answered. "I've been in contact with one of my former colleagues: Doctor Brian Jou. You may have heard of him."

"I've read a few of the articles he's published," Sweets said, his glare not relenting in the least.

"Doctor Jou is currently in charge of a psychiatric facility about three hours from here," Wyatt continued. "It's a good place, and I can assure you that you will receive excellent care. I've discussed it with Doctor Werner and she has agreed to make arrangements so that as soon as you've physically recovered enough to leave here, you will be transferred there."

"So…there is a catch, isn't there?" Sweets glowered.

"Just one detail," the chef replied. "You will need to tell your family and friends why you have chosen to take this step. That is all. Explain yourself to them, and I will ask Doctor Jou to have the paperwork drawn up and your cousin will sign as next of kin. The process will begin today."

Sweets slouched down in his bed, sulking for several minutes. Seeing no other options before him, the therapist eventually let out a deep sigh and worked the controls on the bed so he could recline in a more upright position.

"All right, you all want to know why I'm doing this?" he asked. After watching everyone nod their head, Sweets took a large swallow and continued.

"I'm doing this because I can no longer handle my own life," he said. "I'm doing it because I seriously contemplated suicide at one point. But I'm sure that Wyatt already told all of you that."

Several people in the room flinched while a couple turned away for a second, but Sweets cared little about their reactions at the moment.

"Maybe you felt obligated for some reason to take care of me," Sweets continued. "Admittedly, I probably played and hand in it, and I apologize for that. I should have never inserted myself into your lives the way I did. But I am correcting that mistake now."

The therapist looked down at his blanket, his fingers twisting about in the sheets.

"Andrew…he broke me," he mumbled. "Maybe beyond repair…but then again, maybe not. I really don't know for sure right now. Either way, it's not fair to burden you with the task of trying to fix me. This step…this step will make it so I can get the help I need and will free you from these obligations and burdens."

Sweets stopped and collapsed back down into his bed, his eyes starting to drift shut.

"Is that it?"

The therapist opened his eyes, startled by the sound of Brennan's voice. The anthropologist had her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes locked onto his face. She had a sorrowful expression on her face that was similar to the others in the room, but her features soon showed another emotion: anger.

"You tell us how it is with no input from any of us?" she continued as she approached the bed. "You dictate the terms with which we can relate to you?"

"I'm not dictating anything," Sweets insisted. "I'm just re-establishing the sort of conduct that I should have followed in the first place. I should not have allowed myself to get so close to you."

"But you did," Brennan said as she sat down next to him on the bed. "You became a part of our lives."

"And I apologized for that," the therapist replied. "I realize now that that was a mistake."

"A mistake?" she asked, her voice rising a little. "You're saying that our friendship was a mistake?"

"Yes…A mistake _I_ made, Doctor Brennan and one that I accept responsibility for. So you shouldn't…"

Sweets was interrupted by a slap to his face from Brennan. It wasn't a hard slap; all of her friends who were there were in silent agreement that she had held back quite a bit. But it was hard enough to stop Sweets from talking and leave a faint red mark on his cheek. Sweets, his mouth hanging open slightly in shock, put a hand to where she had slapped him.

"Brennan," Angela gasped. Peter, a scowl on his face, started to advance toward the bed, but Wyatt held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't interfere," Wyatt said, his voice low but firm. "Let this play itself out." The soldier looked upset, but held his ground.

"Doctor Brennan?" Sweets whispered, his eyes growing wet.

"Friendships are not mistakes that you can explain away and 'correct' with psychology," Brennan replied. "It's not just about what you feel or how you think things should go. It's about my feelings too, or maybe you don't care about them? Is that why it was easy for you to experiment on me and Booth when you decided not to tell me that he was still alive after Nunan shot him?"

"I care," Sweets said, his rage building and his breath coming out in stutters. "I care about all of you. You and Agent Booth and…and….All of you mean everything to me…That's why I tried to warn you about Nunan. I knew she was dangerous, and I explained that to you, but you laughed at me. Just like you always do…like all of you always do."

Sweets moved his hand away from his face and went to grip the sheets on his bed, his fingers clenching into fists.

"You all say that you value me and my abilities, but then all of you mock me and dismiss them in the next breath," he continued. "You just want me to be a sycophant, agreeing with everything you're thinking and saying. And if I don't agree, you cast me and my work aside."

"And that justifies your manipulating me and Booth to your own ends?" Brennan shot back. "Or gives you the right to decide the terms of how we interact with you? We try to open ourselves up to you and try to share with you, but you never want to reciprocate. I am certain that is not how friendships are supposed to operate."

Brennan paused, her expression softening. She then took a deep breath before leaning toward him.

"I understand that our friendship was not a planned event," she said. "But it did happen, and I would like to preserve it if at all possible."

Sweets' jaw dropped again as he struggled to understand what she was doing.

'_It doesn't make sense…After everything she just said, she should be walking away in anger…Or slapping me again…Why does she still want to be friends? Why does she care so much?'_

'_Why didn't I apologize before?'_

"I'm sorry," he murmured, the tears flooding his eyes, but still not falling. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you the truth about Booth…I'm sorry that I didn't apologize before now. I…I'm so sorry."

"I know," Brennan said somberly. "I believe you were trying to apologize to me before when you were waking up from your coma. I accept your apology…then and now."

"Why?" the psychologist gasped out. "I've done so many things wrong and have done so little to earn your forgiveness."

"Booth once told me about how his grandfather used to tell him about the origin of the word 'forgive'," Brennan said. "Apparently, he said that the 'for' part implied the word 'forward' which meant that a person shouldn't keep looking back at the past and should keep facing forward to the future. The 'give' part meant that it had to be offered with an open hand and no strings attached…metaphorically speaking."

Brennan scooted a little closer yet, her own eyes beginning to grow shiny.

"I'm certain that the etymology is incorrect," she said. "But I believe the sentiment to be sound." The anthropologist gingerly placed her palm over where she had slapped him. Sweets flinched as she started touch him, but did nothing to move away.

"I forgive you, Sweets," Brennan said gently. "Will you forgive me?"

Tears finally spilled out of Sweets' eyes as he nodded his head.

"Yes," he choked out. Brennan sniffed and nodded in return before reaching over and embracing him tightly. The psychologist shuddered and froze in her arms for a moment before tentatively returning the embrace. He bowed his head downward while he continued to cry, eventually burying his face in her shoulder. Brennan didn't speak, but continued to rub circles over the psychologist's back while she held him.

"Sweets?"

Sweets' head shot back up to see Booth standing at the foot of the bed. The therapist yelped and squirmed out of Brennan's arms, scooting back as far as he could against the wall. Sweets' breath became ragged and started to speed up as he stared at the agent with panicked eyes.

"Agent Booth," he gulped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I promise that I won't do that again…And I'm sorry for what I did before, not telling Brennan the truth about you surviving the Nunan shooting like you wanted me too….And…and the thing with Andrew. I put you in danger just because I couldn't handle my own past…Please…I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Brennan shared a glance with Booth before moving off the bed. The agent took her place, and Sweets started to shake as Booth came closer.

"Please…" Sweets whispered again, flattening himself against the wall. "I'm sorry."

The psychologist was so caught up in his fear and sorrow, he didn't even notice the hurt way Booth regarded him or the soft sniffle that the agent let out as he sat down on the bed.

For his part, Booth noticed everything: the way Sweets was shaking, the red, wet eyes that were wide open with anxiety, the way the psychologist's chest was rising and falling at an ever-increasing rate.

The agent swallowed hard as he observed him. He thought back to last night when he had his discussion with Wyatt and Brennan and then with Brennan alone. It had been a harrowing set of conversations that were filled with many intense emotions and more than a couple of tears. During that entire night and into this morning, Booth continued to ask himself if he would be willing to forgive Sweets for what he had done and if he could bring himself to open up the way the psychologist would need him to. While everyone else walked into to confront Sweets earlier, he ended up staying back in the hallway, listening to everything that had gone on just now, before finally walking in.

Decision made, Booth reached over and placed a hand on Sweets' shoulder, pointedly ignoring how the therapist winced in response.

"Sweets, I forgive you," Booth said roughly. He then pulled Sweets in for a brief hug of his own. The psychologist was shocked, but swiftly reciprocated.

"We need you here," the agent said as he let him go. "So be strong and don't let Jensen win. What he did was not your fault. Stop blaming yourself for his actions and let yourself be forgiven." Sweets shook his head.

"No…I screwed up," he insisted. "I should…."

"We all have made mistakes, ok?" Booth interrupted. "Not just you. And while we can't change that, we can move on."

Booth clasped his shoulder one last time before rising and moving away from the bed. The moment he did, Angela and Hodgins stepped forward toward him, hand-in-hand.

"Ms. Montenegro…" Sweets started as he tried to wipe his tears away.

"Angela," the artist replied.

"Angela," Sweets breathed. "You and Doctor Hodgins…."

"Owe you a great deal," Angela finished for him as she and the entomologist sat down on either side of Sweets. The therapist sniffed hard and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion while Angela took his hand into hers.

"All along, you knew who I needed to be with," she said. "Of course, you didn't say it directly. You just made me think more about the life I was living and the decisions I was making about love. Granted, I would have liked to skip the whole celibacy thing. But it's ok because in the end you helped me consider what really mattered to me. I can't thank you enough for that."

"Angela…I…I didn't…" Sweets stammered. Hodgins cut him off by patting his shoulder.

"You know, when Ange and I broke up and that stuff happened with Zack…I was…I was so angry," Hodgins said. "I kept lashing out at everyone, including you. But you saw past that and could see what else I was feeling: hurt. Few things were making sense to me, but you were always there to help me sort them out."

The entomologist stopped and looked over at Angela. They shared a moment of silent communication before the artist nodded, and Hodgins looked Sweets in the eye.

"When I found out that Angela was dating Wendell…I thought I had reached a new low point," he said quietly. "I couldn't see how things could get any worse and it was killing me inside. That day when I went to your office ….you have no idea how much that helped me get through that day and the ones after it."

Hodgins swallowed hard and looked back down at the bed. Angela moved her other hand to rub his arm before the two of them held hands again.

"What Jack is trying to say is that the fact that we're together again is partially because of your efforts," she said. "Maybe we did the real work, but you gave us the support we needed and we will always be grateful for that." Angela squeezed both Hodgins' and Sweets' hands, her eyes finally watering up.

"And that's why it hurts so much that you think that we don't want you here with us," she said. "When you went missing, we all were going crazy worrying about you and worrying that we wouldn't find you. When we did find you and you were so close to death….Don't you know how much it would have hurt all of us if we had been too late, and how much we would have missed you if you…if you had….?"

"I'm sorry," Sweets whispered, his voice laced with more tears. Angela leaned over and hugged him while kissing his cheek, and Hodgins gave him a quick embrace as well.

"We're sorry too, man," Hodgins mumbled after he had let the therapist go. "And uh, I know it's going to sound really strange, but we really can't imagine you not hanging around the lab, asking us all those annoying questions, following us around. Nor would we want to, as crazy as that sounds. No offense."

"None taken," Sweets said with a slight smile. Angela and Hodgins both nodded before leaving the bed, their hands locked back together. Cam then took the vacant spot besides Sweets, her eyes saddened but warm.

"Sweets, what you said earlier…" the pathologist said. "I just wanted you to know that we have never laughed at you. Not once. We have teased you, but it was never meant to hurt. If it did or if it made you thought that you weren't needed or wanted then we are all truly sorry. Because the truth is that we all rely on you to help us deal with our work and our lives because we know that you are a caring, gifted, insightful person."

Cam paused and took a deep breath while blinking and looking up at the ceiling. After she had gotten a hold of herself she looked back at the psychologist.

"Being in charge of the Medico-Legal lab is an amazing opportunity," she continued. "And the chance to raise a beautiful and exceptional young woman like Michelle…I can't even put how that makes me feel into words. But as thankful as I am for all of that, it is a little overwhelming at times. There have been so many occasions when I needed a little advice, some encouragement or just a chance to vent, and you've been there for all of that."

She then reached for Sweets' hand and squeezed it, a smile on her face.

"You've been more than a shrink, Sweets," Cam said. "You've been a true friend."

The pathologist finished up with an embrace which Sweets accepted and returned.

"Doctor Sweets…you're crushing me again," Cam said. Sweets started to let go of her completely, but Cam placed her hands on his upper arms, preventing a total break in contact.

"Don't let go," she murmured. "Of me, of all of us, of the life you have here. Unlike Zack, I never suspected that you would cause me pain, so don't you start now."

She held him for a few seconds longer before getting up and re-joining the others. Once she was there, Peter took her place beside his cousin. Sweets immediately hung his head.

"I am so sorry Peter," he said brokenly. "What I said to you…"

"Wasn't too far from the truth," the soldier replied ruefully. "I am living in the shadow of my father to some extent simply because I hope to be the man that he was."

"I'm sure you are," Sweets blurted out. Peter smiled and moved closer so he could put an arm around Sweets' shoulders.

"Thank you, Lance," he said. "And I see more of Uncle David in you all the time. If he were here right now, I'm sure he'd mention how proud he is of you."

"I'm sorry," Sweets repeated.

"I forgive you," Peter said. "Hey…don't you remember that promise Uncle David had us make? He made us promise to never let a disagreement drive a wedge between us the way it did between him and my father."

"I remember," Sweets nodded while looking down and starting to blush. "And um…I also remember you saying that…that since neither of us have brothers that maybe…maybe we could be like brothers…the way our dads were."

"I hadn't forgotten that either, Whiz Kid," Peter grinned. "Or should I say, little brother?"

Sweets grinned back despite his fresh tears and the two of them embraced. A couple minutes later the psychologist slumped against Peter while trembling from exhaustion and reaction.

"Ok Lance, you need to lie back down," Peter said as he released his hold and guided him to rest on the bed. "Just relax." The solider then used the bed controls to lower the bed a little.

Once Peter was finished with that, Sweets grabbed a tissue from the night stand so that he could wipe off his face. Peter got up and adjusted the blankets so that Sweets was covered before moving back with the others. Wyatt and Werner, also moved by what had just happened, advanced toward the therapist.

"Excellent Doctor Sweets, you held up your end of the bargain," the chef smiled. "My offer still stands, but now I would like to make you a counter offer."

Sweets raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"You can still go to Doctor Jou's facility, if you want," Wyatt said. "Or you can remain here and let us help you recover. You would still stay in this hospital until you are strong enough to leave, but…you will no longer be permitted time alone. Not until you are moving toward a better place mentally. Also, I will be dropping by to talk to you for about an hour three times a week. Nothing formal, but not entirely casual either."

"And you're going to have to follow our suggestions to help you get better Lance," Peter added. "That means you start eating again, we get you on a regular sleep schedule, and you start doing a little rehab. But most of all, it means that you can't keep everything to yourself anymore."

"Quite right," Wyatt nodded. "You will need to talk to us about anything that is afflicting you, be it physical, mental or emotional. You will have to trust in your family and friends and will have to open yourself up perhaps a little more than you're usually comfortable with in order to heal."

"Before you make a decision, you should know that we'll support you no matter what," Peter said. "So what do you say, Lance? What do you want to do?"

Sweets finished cleaning off his face and blowing his nose before balling his tissues up and throwing them into the wastebasket next to him. He then stared at everyone in the room. His eyes, throat and nose were sore while the rest of his body felt heavy and enervated. Emotionally and mentally, Sweets still felt overwhelmed by what had just happened, but soon another set of feelings filled his soul: feelings of comfort and security. It was the first time he had felt them since waking from his coma, and Sweets relished these feelings.

He thought again about what they had offered him, and truthfully, he had strong reservations about some of their terms. But as he watched his family and friends wait for his reply, Sweets knew that there was only one answer his heart would allow.

"I'd like to stay," he said. "I'd like to stay here with all of you."


	38. Chapter 38

Author's Note: Next chapter. Work is going well on my sequel and I hope to have it up within a couple of weeks of finishing this.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**DiNo22: **Ooops, I hope you weren't too late for work. :) Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed and a little sorry that I couldn't provide you with a Sweets to hug. That would have been great after that cathartic chapter. :)

**Charlotte Thornton: **Hey, did you change your name? :) I agree that closure is a great thing. I just wish we could see more of it in canon. *sigh* I guess that's why they say that fanfic fills in the gaps.

**Super Ario: **Thank you. I had been trying to build to that for a while (although I'm pretty sure some of my readers were starting to wonder if I was going to have him get any better after all) and I'm glad that the payoff was so rewarding to you. I never thought it would happen overnight but wanted it to happen at some point...I figured that many would be surprised by the slap, but you're right in saying that it was needed in that moment for a lot of reasons...We are near the end because there will only be 40 chapters for this fic. Then later will be the sequel...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you for the review. I know that you were a little worried about where I was taking things (rightly so, actually) but I'm pleased that you enjoyed how I decided to resolve the climax of this fic. One of my favorite things to do is to weave canon into my work in a different way, so again, I'm really glad you enjoyed it...Yeah, that line was straight out of my first draft of the chapter. It was one of those sudden inspirations that I always treasure. :)

**Rankor01: **Haha, loved the TTMitTC reference. I always did love that scene at the end of the episode between B&B. :)...It did feel realistic to me that Sweets would not blindly accept the kind of help that they were offering him even if he knew that he really needed it and appreciated the offer...I agree that one of the continuing problems that almost everyone on the show faces is learning how to look past their own perspectives and let go of past hurts to move forward. That often manifests itself as pride and it can get in the way of meaningful relationships...I did agonize a bit over the slap. On one hand, it did seem a little cruel of her, but on the other hand it did feel very true to her character. I kept thinking about Sweets' line in TPitH: "Slapping Agent Booth revealed the depth of her feelings for him. It was a passionate act." Little could Sweets know how that could someday come back to him. :)

**Softballgirl05: **I'll admit it was a little uplifting to me too considering how dark things are getting in my THotF fic right now. It is heartening to think that Sweets could learn to be part of a family again after seeing himself as so alone after the death of his parents and after what Andrew put him through...That and I'm a bit of a sucker for happy endings even if everything isn't always perfect. :) I hope you enjoy the rest of this one.

**Voiceless Night: **Thank you. I knew that this one would be a bit of an emotional one just because everyone was going to have to show a little of their hearts to Sweets in order to convince him to stay. I do think that a lot of these thoughts are lurking inside these characters, but it's just not in their nature to always show all of this feeling out in the open...For me, Brennan made the most sense for the slap, but it was for exactly the reason you mentioned, a sort of "open your eyes and see how much we care for you moment."...I did like that you noticed how I kind of left it for the end for him to decide to stay with them. A bit of suspense on my part to balance the emotion...I hope this update was fast enough.

**D: **I went through several ideas about how I wanted to handle Booth in this chapter before finally settling on how to include him. I'm really glad you enjoyed how I went about it. And I agree that Brennan has done the best at learning to deal with her past, but then again, she has had a lot of support and she has been more open about it. I don't see Jared being much help for Booth and (very sadly) Peter only exists in my world, so Sweets is on his own a lot here. I think that the only way their friendships will truly progress to the next level is if they do as you mentioned and find a new way to define their roles with each other.

**ASummer: **I've often thought that Brennan and Sweets' friendship was a unique one on the show simply because it's so understated and yet clearly there. It hides behind a lot of bickering and teasing, but manages to come out in some really touching ways as seen in Mayhem and TDitP. Thus, I wanted to touch on that here...And as I mentioned elsewhere, I love to weave canon into my work, so it was a joy to find ways to include it into this chapter...And yeah, I have a soft spot for that line with Cam. I love how the two of them are with each other. :)

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I wanted Sweets to finally get a real glimpse into how much he means to the team simply because I think he sometimes doubts how much they value him. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**Ipizzlewizzle: **Thanks. We are getting really close to the end, so I hope you enjoy the rest of the ride.

**NCISMcAbbyISthebest: **I did enjoy writing the talks all of the characters had with Sweets, but I'll agree to being particularly happy with how Brennan's and Cam's turned out. :) What can I say, I have a big weakness for fluff and it was in full force in that chapter. :D

**Rex01: **I agree that we do not get enough of this in canon, and a part of me is longing for at least one scene with each character at some point where they confess to Sweets about how much they value his friendship, but I suppose for now we will have to make do with all the subtle ways it shows itself. :)

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 38

The decision to remain with his family and friends had come easily to Sweets, but he quickly discovered that recovery was going to be anything but easy.

The fever that had been pestering him for the last couple of days turned out to be a moderate infection brought on by his lack of eating and his already weakened condition. The therapist ended up spending the next three days battling it while his friends remained by his side. By the end of it, Sweets was dismayed to discover that he had lost so much strength, he was barely able to lift his head from his pillow.

The others, however, wasted no time in trying to reverse this trend.

As soon as he was more lucid again, Wyatt began visiting him to talk things over for about an hour a day, three times a week. The chef was wary of jumping right into the harder topics, and focused instead on how Sweets was currently feeling along with addressing any issues that might slow the psychologist's physical recovery. Wyatt's first concern was Sweets' eating habits and he was pleased to come up with a possible solution within the first couple of visits.

"His anxiety over what happened to him along with his misguided ideas about you lot are making it difficult for him to relax enough to be able eat," Wyatt informed the others during a gathering at the Royal Diner one morning. "Also, I had a talk with Doctor Werner and she confirmed that one of the possible side effects of ketamine is nausea. I believe that Doctor Sweets is somehow relating the nausea he feels here with what he was subjected to from Jensen."

"What can we do?" Peter asked.

"My recommendation is that you remove as much anxiety as possible from mealtimes," Wyatt replied. "Make it a pleasant experience. In fact, I would like you all to try an experiment: each of you create a homemade meal for him and bring in enough for the both of you to share. Eat together and enjoy each others company with some light, casual conversation. This will not be the time for anyone to discuss anything relating to his recent trauma…unless he explicitly requests to do so."

Intrigued by Wyatt's suggestion, everyone decided to give it a shot and thus a series of homemade meals made their way into Sweets' room. Each of them would make sure to bring enough for themselves and a small portion of a few bites for Sweets, so they could dine with him. Angela made good on her promise to bring in some paella while Hodgins went with simpler fare of cold noodle dish he learned to make while in college. Brennan made her beloved macaroni and cheese using the recipe that her late friend Carly Victor had taught her while Booth brought in his own version of his grandfather's grilled cheese sandwiches. Cam made a hearty chili, and Peter brought in omelets one morning for breakfast.

At first, Sweets was only able to eat about half of what he was given, and a couple of times he still vomited. But after a couple of days of this, the psychologist managed to keep everything down and was starting to eat more and more.

Along with ensuring that Sweets was getting proper nourishment, everyone discovered the unexpected but welcome side effect of these meals giving everyone a chance to relax and bond together the way they used to. More often than not, more than one person would show up to share a meal with Sweets, creating an unexpectedly jovial atmosphere, given that they were meeting in a hospital room. Sweets usually remained mostly silent during these meals, preferring to eat and listen to the others around him. But the smile that was almost always on his face let the others know how much he relished these times with them.

* * *

As his strength started to come back, Werner made the decision to cut back on his antibiotics and painkillers. Although he didn't say anything out loud, Sweets was initially nervous about this even though he couldn't quite put his finger on why this was. Sensing his unease, Werner asked Wyatt to join her in a discussion of the matter with Sweets one afternoon. As they talked to him about it, it soon became clear how conflicted the therapist was on the topic.

"I know that I need to do it," Sweets said. "I can't stay dependent on painkillers for the rest of my life, but the truth is…I'm scared."

"That's not surprising," Wyatt said. "You were recently tortured. It's only natural that you are reluctant to feel any sort of pain again anytime soon."

"But…I hate this feeling. Being scared all the time," Sweets said, clenching his hands tightly. "Why can't I stop being afraid?"

"Doctor Sweets, have you considered the possibility that you are being rather overly harsh with yourself?" Wyatt asked him. "I doubt very much that any of your family would say that you are a coward. Acknowledge the reality that you are recovering from an extreme trauma and accept the fact that it will take time."

"Doctor Sweets, are you in any pain right now?" Werner asked.

"Not really," Sweets said. "Once in a while, I feel a dull ache but most of the time…." Werner gently placed a hand over one of Sweets'

"Don't worry," she soothed. "We can make this as gradual as you need it to be. Now, there will be some discomfort as your body adjusts to lower doses, but it should pass in a day or two. But I promise that we will not let you suffer needlessly."

Sweets nodded and after staring down at his lap for a few moments, he looked back up, determination filling his eyes.

"All right," he said. "Let's try to lower the dosage."

That evening, Werner made the necessary adjustments to the contents of the therapist's IV. Sweets didn't feel much change until the next morning when his muscles started to ache and he broke out into a cold sweat that lasted for hours. As the pain registered, he was tempted to change his mind, but decided instead to silently endure the pain and the side effects, hoping that Werner was right in saying that they wouldn't last.

Everyone noticed Sweets' discomfort, but made a point not to bring it up, knowing that it would only agitate him. Instead they continued to spend time with him in the hopes that their presence would give him enough comfort to work through his pain.

* * *

Fortunately, Werner turned out to be correct in her assessment and Sweets was pleased to discover that his body adjusted quickly to the steadily decreasing amounts of painkillers in his system. But even more important to him than the relief that came from his physical symptoms starting to fade was the fact that the psychologist was finally able to push through the mental fog that had been bothering him for so long. Sweets was thankful that he was able to have more coherent and lucid thought processes again.

There was one side effect, however, that Sweets did not foresee as his mind began to clear and that was an increase in the frequency and intensity of his nightmares whenever he tried to sleep.

Wyatt attempted to address this issue more than once during his talks with the therapist, but found himself consistently stonewalled. Concerned that there might be a relapse due to his inability to get decent rest, Wyatt decided one afternoon to try a different approach.

"Doctor Sweets, since you won't share with me the content or nature of your dreams, would you be willing to take a more abstract approach to the problem with me?" the chef asked him. "A sort of variation on the concept of meta-cognition?" Sweets raised an eyebrow.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Perhaps you can share with me, not so much about the dreams themselves but more about your thoughts, feelings or impressions of them," Wyatt replied. "Go however far you need to in your analysis."

Sweets turned toward the window for several minutes, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Certain that the therapist was carefully formulating a response, Wyatt sat back in his chair and waited patiently for several minutes for his answer.

"My dreams…I have them every time I close my eyes," Sweets finally said as he turned back toward the chef. "I try to not think about them because I know that focusing too much on a dream can make it become more persistent. But…I can't get them out of my head, no matter how hard I try."

"Your dreams, they do not change?" Wyatt asked.

"Elements of them change," Sweets answered. "Words said, sequence of events, but overall, no. In the end, they are all the same."

"Do you believe that it's the dreams themselves that are causing you so much distress?" Wyatt inquired. "Or is it the fact that you are having them in the first place?"

"I...I'm not sure anymore," Sweets mumbled, his face almost quizzical. "All I know is that it's getting hard for me to know where the line between dreams and reality is these days. Sometimes, I can't tell the difference between them."

After that, Wyatt was unable to get much more out of the psychologist, so he decided to cut things short for the day. As he was walking out, however, he was surprised to find Hodgins standing near the door, a faraway look in his eye.

"Doctor Hodgins," Wyatt said. "This might seem a little picayune of me to ask, but how much of my conversation with Doctor Sweets were you privy to?"

"I only heard a little bit toward the end, when he was talking about his dreams," the entomologist replied. "Look, I'm not spying ok? I was just…I was going to drop in for a few minutes and I just happened to hear that."

Hodgins bent his head down and put a hand to his face while shuffling about in place. Wyatt, noting his discomfort, moved a little closer.

"Perhaps something in Doctor Sweets' words resonated with you to some extent?" Wyatt asked. "I have a few minutes. Would you care to discuss it?"

"No, I…I should get going," Hodgins said, backing away. "I saw Peter here a little bit ago and…I can stop by later."

The entomologist spun on his heel and walked quickly down the hallway. Wyatt watched him leave, a smile coming to his face as he contemplated the events he was certain would happen later this evening.

* * *

That night, Sweets lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles for the umpteenth time. He had enjoyed a filling dinner with Cam and felt himself becoming drowsy as he waited for another one of his friends to show up to spend the night with him.

The fact that he rarely got more than a few minutes to himself anymore did chafe the psychologist's nerves, but the realization that his friends and family were so dedicated to his recovery was finally starting to register with him. The resulting gratitude and security he felt always managed to overwhelm any resentment he felt over the arrangement.

Besides, he usually did not want to be left alone at night because of the difficulties he knew he would face while trying to sleep.

Every night he would settle into his bed and close his eyes, attempting to will himself into slumber. But despite his determination, a cold pit of fear would always uncoil itself, sending shivers throughout his body. He would then re-open his eyes and try to find other ways to wile way the hours.

Sometimes exhaustion would overtake him and sleep would come of its own accord whether Sweets wanted it or not. These stints of sleep would never last, however, and they were always interrupted by nightmares. The therapist was thankful that someone was always there to help him wake up and calm down afterwards even if it was also somewhat mortifying.

Still, Sweets persisted in his attempts to get more sleep. He was sure that his lack of rest was not only making it difficult to alleviate his depression. fear and anxiety, but was slowing down the rate at which he was healing from his injuries. He also knew that this was not lost on the others since they could see the large circles developing under his eyes and could watch him start to doze off in the middle of the day only to snap his eyes back open before falling into any sort of deep slumber.

Sweets sighed as he completed his third round of counting ceiling tiles. He could tell already that his body would surrender to its need for rest as some point tonight, but that did not make the prospect of spending another terror-filled night any easier to face.

The sound of sneakers shuffling along the floor distracted the psychologist from his latest count, and he looked up to see Hodgins walking into the room, an electronic reader in his hand.

"Doctor Hodgins?" Sweets said, surprised. "I thought Doctor Brennan was coming tonight."

"She uh…she had something to do, so I'm filling in," he said as he pulled a chair over and sat down. "So how are you feeling tonight?"

"Tired," Sweets answered honestly.

"Yeah, I imagine you are," Hodgins said. "I'm sorry, man."

"Why are you saying sorr—…"

"Look, Sweets, we all know that you need to rest," Hodgins interrupted. "And, we know why you haven't been able to."

'_Hasn't exactly been a secret,'_ Sweets thought to himself, trying to keep a frown off his face.

"Anyway, I don't know if this will help but…" Hodgins mumbled. "But I do know a little about what you're going through." The entomologist took a quick, sharp breath before continuing.

"When Taffet buried me and Doctor B alive…before that I thought I knew what fear was, you know?" he said. "But I when I woke up in the dark, dirt all around us and pain running through my leg, I realized that I didn't know anything about fear until that moment. I mean, I don't know how Brennan was able to keep it together because I'm pretty sure she was thinking the same thing I was: that we were probably going to die and that there was a strong possibility that no one would ever find us."

Even thought the psychologist did his best to keep a look of sympathy on his face, he wasn't able to stop his eyes from watering up as he listened.

"I won't pretend to know it was like for you, ok?" Hodgins added. "Being stuck in a room with that evil bastard…but…I heard Booth tell Brennan after they found us that she was never alone, that he was with her the whole time he was looking for her. I didn't really get that. Even after I had time to think about it. But while we were looking for you, I finally got it…And Booth was right. Booth, Cam, Angela, Zack…they were all with Brennan and me during that whole thing, in spirit, and the same was true for you. You were never alone, Sweets."

Hodgins then patted the psychologist's arm, his eyes growing moist as he watched tears roll down Sweets' face unchecked while still remaining silent.

"Anyway, it wasn't easy for me for a while after we got out of that car," the entomologist said, clearing his throat. "Ange can tell you that I ended up going right back to the lab to analyze the stuff we got from the car and from…my leg that night. She thought it was crazy that I had left the hospital and she was right but…when I was lying in that hospital bed…every time I closed my eyes, I was right back in that car, buried underground, running out of air and light."

Hodgins moved even closer to the bed and leaned toward Sweets.

"I was scared," he nearly whispered. "I was scared that being rescued was just some kind of delirium induced dream and that the reality was that I was still slowly suffocating."

"How did you work through it?" Sweets sniffled.

"Angela," Hodgins said. "She stayed with me that night. Held me in her arms. Whenever those dreams started up and I thought I was being swallowed into the earth, I'd have her touch, her voice to remind me that I was safe and that it was over. Eventually, I was able to see those dreams for what they were: figments of a frightened imagination, symptoms of stress…not reality."

The entomologist sat back up and rubbed his eyes. He looked upward and took a couple more deep breaths before looking back at Sweets again.

"Hey, I'm not thinking of climbing into bed with you, so don't get any of those ideas," he smirked with a weak laugh.

"I'm good with that," Sweets said, cracking a small smile of his own.

"But I uh, I'd thought that I'd just…"

Hodgins then placed his hand over one of Sweets' and squeezed gently.

"I'm just going to sit here tonight and hold your hand, all right?" Hodgins said quietly. "That way, when you start to dream, you'll know that you're not alone and that your dreams are just that: dreams. And…and if they start to get too bad, I'll start talking to you so that you'll know that you're still here and you're still safe." Sweets' eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock for a few seconds as processed what Hodgins had just said to him.

"Hodgins, I…" Sweets sniffed again. "Thank you."

"It's ok, man," Hodgins said. "Just get some sleep. You seriously need it."

Sweets nodded and closed his eyes while the entomologist settled back in his chair and brought up Brennan's latest book on his reader. Within moments, Hodgins heard the psychologist's breathing become slower and more regular and he knew that he had fallen asleep.

* * *

About four hours later, Hodgins was halfway into the book and Sweets was still slumbering when Angela walked into the room with a pair of coffees in her hands. Hodgins sat the device down in his lap.

"Hey," she whispered as she handed him a coffee and then pulled a chair over to sit next to him. "How is he?"

"He's been asleep for a while now," Hodgins answered after taking a sip. "It's probably the most sleep he's gotten since he woke up from that coma…putting aside the times he was drugged up on sedatives."

Angela nodded and then noticed that he was loosely holding onto the psychologist's hand. She took a long gulp of coffee and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Jack? What's that about?"

"Hey, it worked when you sort of did that for me, remember?" Hodgins shrugged. "After the Gravedigger thing."

A smile lit up Angela's face, her eyes regarding him tenderly before she leaned over and kissed him.

"Jack, that's…" she said. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Well I have to be a little amazing," he grinned. "After all, I've got you to try and keep up with." They kissed again, their foreheads touching afterwards.

Movement from the bed and a soft moan caused both of them to break contact. Sweets had started to stir, his eyes moving rapidly under closed lids and his breathing starting to speed up. Hodgins immediately tightened the grip on his hand.

"It's ok, Sweets," he murmured. "It's just a dream. Ange and I are right here." The artist placed her hand on the therapist's arm and started to stroke it.

"You're safe here," she said. "We won't let anything happen, all right?"

"'Kay," Sweets breathed, his eyes never opening. His movements slowed down and his head flopped back down into his pillow. The two of them watched him settle into a more peaceful slumber for a few minutes before slumping back down in their chairs.

"He does that about once an hour," Hodgins sighed. "I don't know if I want to know what he's reliving while he's doing that."

"Hodgins, do you think he's going to be ok? I mean really?" Angela asked. "Do you think that the Sweets we used to know is still in there?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Hodgins said. "I hope so but…."

"But what?"

"Would any of us be the same after going through something like what he went through?" the entomologist asked. "Is that even possible? I keep thinking about how there was this professor I had in college who told me that every moment changes us, but the bigger things in life, they change us forever…I'm pretty sure he was referring to the positive stuff like graduating from college or having a kid, but I can't see how that wouldn't apply to something like this too."

Angela nodded, her eyes filling with tears. She nudged Hodgins' hand away from Sweets' and replaced it with her own. Seeing her distress, Hodgins held her close.

"That doesn't mean that I don't think he'll get better," he murmured. "I just think that he may be a little different. That doesn't necessarily mean something bad. Maybe he'll be even stronger or maybe he won't be so insecure. Or maybe he'll just mature a little. You have to admit that he could use a little of that."

"I suppose so," Angela said, trying to work up a smile. "It's just…I want things to be as they were. I know. It's kind of stupid to want that considering how we all know that things always change. But still, I can't stop myself from longing for it. "

"Well, maybe we can't have that," Hodgins smiled at her. "But nothing says that we can't have something even better than before."


	39. Chapter 39

Author's Note: Next chapter. This one came a lot slower to me than I expected and I apologize for that. I should have the last chapter up by the end of the week.

I also want to personally thank **Mendenbar **for giving me the inspiration to go through with a plot decision for one of my characters that I've been toying with for a while now...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Rankor01: **While I don't want to pile on the angst too much, I really don't care for fics that have a bunch of traumatic events happen that are just neatly cleared up with no consequences a couple chapters later. It feels unrealistic to me, and given the characters we are dealing with, OOC as well. To me, this story is just as much about the recovery as it is the events themselves...I had been wanting to have a scene with Sweets and Hodgins in this and the last chapter felt like a good way to include them. I agree that, if you think about it, Sweets was Hodgins' biggest supporter during the whole thing with Zack and then with Angela and her escapades, and I agree with you that Hodgins is the type of person who would not forget about something like that. Plus, I think the two of them get such a nerdy pleasure out of what they do and it's a side of themselves that they are both best equipped to understand. :)

**Charlotte Thornton: **Ah well, wouldn't be the first time one of my reviewers changed their name. :) Sometimes it's weird to look at old author's notes and realize that some names don't exist anymore...I agree with you that Sweets learning to accept help is one of the biggest turning points in his recovery, and am glad that you enjoyed my bit with Hodgins. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**D: **While I was re-watching some episodes of Bones here recently surrounding the Gravedigger storyline, it occurred to me that Hodgins had a lot of experience dealing with night terrors and lingering PTSD and thus would be a good candidate for talking to Sweets about such things...As for your other comment...it won't be the complete catalyst, but you will see the beginnings of it in this chapter...

**Lives in the now: **I agree that Hodgins will make a great father. :) And yeah, over time it did seem like he got a big soft spot for the squinterns and eventually bonded more with Sweets. The two of them know that they can let out their more sensitive and nerdy sides of themselves around each other and it makes for a great friendship between them, IMO...Peace will not happen overnight, as will be seen, but peace might not be the only thing coming to their duckling, as the rest of this fic (and especially the sequel) will show...

**ASummer: **Thank you. Again, I wanted this to not just be about the trauma, but also about the recovery and the eventual transformation as well (although the transformation part won't really manifest itself until the sequel). I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic.

**Peanutmeg: **I'll admit that a part of me couldn't get the fluffy idea of the team sharing meals together out of my mind. It's one of my favorite bits on the show. There is something heartwarming and familial about it...Glad you enjoyed the part with Hodgins. I hope you enjoy this update as well.

**Rex01: **I am with you there. I was surprised that the writers didn't develop Sweets' and Hodgins' friendship together more around the beginning of Season Four when they had several great moments together (The Finger in the Nest being the best example), but I did love their bits in Season Five in all of the episodes you mentioned and also hope that they do more with their friendship in the next season.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 39

Sweets woke up the next day feeling more rested than he had in a long while. His body felt refreshed, and his mind possessed a clarity that it hadn't been able to achieve since waking from his coma.

Even more important to the psychologist than all of that, however, was the moment that he realized that Hodgins was still sitting at his bedside, holding his hand, albeit groggily. The fact that the entomologist had been willing to commit to this caring gesture affected Sweets more than he figured it would and he spent the first few minutes after waking trying to hold back his tears of gratitude.

* * *

After a couple more days of substantive meals and an increased amount of rest, Sweets finally started to get some of his strength back, and at Werner's suggestion, he started to make some attempts at exercise.

Werner first replaced his cast with one that was better suited for walking and cautioned him to not overdo things. After talking with psychologist about her concerns and deciding with him that walking about would be a good start, she was happy to find out that both Peter and Booth were volunteering to help Sweets in this endeavor.

It started out with the therapist taking very brief strolls within the confines of his room and eventually evolved into a once or twice daily walk down the hallway with either Peter or Booth walking close beside him to ensure that he wouldn't fall and to keep him company. Sweets was often frustrated at how difficult this minor amount of physical activity had become and was usually irritable by the time it was done, but persisted in his efforts to try and walk every single day.

* * *

During this time, Werner gathered the others for an impromptu meeting to discuss the idea of releasing Sweets from the hospital in about another week or so.

Initially, almost all of them were surprised by the news. Despite having regained some of his strength along with about five pounds of weight, the psychologist was still about twenty pounds underweight and could only walk short distances without becoming completely winded. But Werner assured them that this was the best move to make at this time.

"What Doctor Sweets needs is a healthy routine, time and care," she said. "All of this would be best accomplished in a home setting. Believe me; the healing process will go a lot faster if he is allowed to recover in more personal surroundings."

The others soon agreed with the idea and began to discuss another plan that had been brewing between them for a while now.

* * *

About three days later, after his morning session with Wyatt, Sweets was surprised when Werner came into the room accompanied by Booth, Brennan, Peter, Hodgins, Angela, and Cam.

"What's this about?" Sweets mumbled.

"Your family and friends have another proposal for you," Wyatt said. "And I believe that both Doctor Werner and SSG Sweets have some news to share."

"Let me start off by informing you that I am ready to discharge you from the hospital as early as next week," Werner smiled. "Your health is improving at a steady rate, and I think it's time for you to go home."

"Really?" Sweets said, startled by the news. He had been longing for a while now for the chance to leave the hospital, and it almost felt unreal to find out that he was so close to fulfilling his wish.

"Yes really," the doctor replied. "But make no mistake; I am doing this with the understanding that you will be scheduling some follow-up appointments with me over the next few months. You are still recovering Doctor Sweets, and I will need to monitor you for a while after you leave here just in case there are any complications."

Sweets sighed inwardly, but nodded in agreement. He found that he couldn't really fault her for being cautious considering how close he had been to death when he had first arrived there and admitted that it was probably for the best that she was being so comprehensive in her approach.

But then Wyatt's earlier statement came back to him, and Sweets was seized by a growing curiosity. He was embarrassed, however, to discover that he was too nervous to vocalize his questions. The words remained caught in his throat and all he could do is look over at Peter and hope he would understand his unspoken request.

Peter noticed his cousin staring at him and smiled. He could guess what it was that Sweets wanted to ask, and he made his way over to the bed.

"Lance, before I say anything, I want you to know that this is not about what happened to you," Peter said as he sat down in front of him. "Not solely. It's something that's been on my mind for a while now and being here with you just gave me the chance to finally work things out in my own mind before reaching a decision."

"Ok," Sweets nearly whispered.

"Ok then," Peter nodded. "Well…I know that you know about the fact that I've been taking college courses for quite a while now."

"Yeah, I know," Sweets said with a shy smile. "I thought you were a little crazy to go for that bachelors degree with your workload, but you proved me wrong…especially when you graduated with honors."

"Hey, I was just trying to give you a little competition, Whiz Kid," the soldier grinned. "You're not the only one with brains around here. Anyway, I've actually been working on a master's degree for a while now and after mulling it over recently, I've made a decision." Peter took a deep breath before continuing.

"I've talked things over with my superiors and they've given me a couple of assignments to complete before they will transfer me to Fort McNair," he said. "Once that is done, I will be staying in DC for a few more months to finish up my masters, and after that I will end my career in the Army."

"Peter…why?" Sweets gasped. "You love being a soldier. It's your life."

"Lance, I have never regretted my decision to serve," Peter said. "And I am proud of the things I've been able to accomplish, but…but Dad was wise enough to know when it was time to settle down and put down some roots. That time has come for me now. I'd like to build a life here, see more of my family and maybe build one of my own before too long."

"Any thoughts about what you will do once you leave the Army?" Cam asked.

"Actually, I was thinking of putting in an application with the FBI," Peter said sheepishly. "It was always on my list of possibilities and after being around you guys and seeing more of what you do…I decided that I'd like to be a part of this."

"Let me know when you apply," Booth said. "I will be sure to put in a good word for you."

"Thank you, Booth," Peter grinned. "I really appreciate that."

"We have something else to talk to you about too," Brennan said with traces of impatience and unease in her voice.

"Right," Booth chimed in. "Anyway, Doctor Werner talked to us about you leaving here soon and uh, all of us…we got to talking about it, and we decided that…Well we thought it would be a good idea if…."

"Booth is trying to say that we would like you to consider staying with us while you recover," Brennan interjected.

"Bones," the agent frowned. "I was working up to that."

"Stay with you?" Sweets asked, confusion knitting his eyebrows together.

"Sweets, we know that this won't be over for you just because you're leaving the hospital," Cam said. "And we would like to help you while you get through this by having you stay with each of us for a little while at a time."

"I have an apartment," Sweets scowled. As he said it, however, he immediately considered how long he had been in the hospital and he visibly paled. "I…I still have a place, right?"

"Don't worry," Hodgins said. "We took care of that for you while you've been here. We even cleaned it up and got rid of all your broken furniture and got you some new pieces. We hope you like them."

"I…Thank you," the psychologist gulped. "I'll pay you back. I swear, as soon as I leave here, I'll make sure to…."

"Forget about it Sweets," Hodgins said. "Besides, we all chipped in, so you wouldn't know who to pay what anyway. Think of it as a welcome home gift."

"Sweets, we know you have your own place and that you probably planned on staying there while you get better," Angela said, walking over and placing her hand onto his. "But after everything that's happened…we just don't want to leave you alone. Besides…I know this is going to sound weird but…we're still trying to adjust too."

The artist gripped his hand and sat down on the bed.

"I know that we've mentioned this to you," Angela said. "But…we were so scared while you were missing and then while you were in that coma. We didn't want to lose you, but a part of us started to think that we already had and that almost broke our hearts…And we're still trying to get used to the idea that we have you back and that you're safe with us. We need you close to us for a while. Plus we…we'd like to get to know you a little better. I'm pretty sure that everyone would agree with me when I say that, I feel like we haven't gotten to know you as much as we should and we'd like a chance to change that now."

Sweets let out a sigh and looked down into his lap. Truthfully he had been looking forward to getting back to his apartment and spending some time alone. He knew that he had agreed to let them keep an eye on him at all times in the hospital, but he hadn't planned on the possibility of them wanting to continue this arrangement after he was released.

Then he started to think of what could happen if he said no. They would understand, of course, and let him have his space, but was that the best thing? The psychologist realized that he would probably have to spend most of his time at home for at least a couple months while he recovered and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before relaxing activates like reading, meditating, or playing video games would give way to lonely brooding.

Sweets shuddered. As much as he sometimes needed the chance to collect and analyze his thoughts in private, he could easily picture his fears, anxieties and recollections about what Andrew had done to him taking hold and slowly pulling him down into a much darker place. As he thought about the risks of all that occurring in a solitary setting, Wyatt's words came back to him.

'_You must trust in your friends and family, and open yourself up perhaps more than what you are usually comfortable with in order to heal.'_

The therapist sighed inwardly as he considered the full implications of the chef's words, and in the back of his mind he hoped, yet again, that someday he could have anywhere near the level of skill and insight Wyatt seemed to possess naturally.

"Ok," Sweets said, lifting his head back up.

"Fine," Brennan smiled. "I would like to offer my place for you to stay in first. That is…unless you would prefer someone else. Like say Booth, or…."

"I would love to stay with you, Doctor Brennan," Sweets said with a warm smile. "Thank you."

* * *

About an hour later, Werner pulled Wyatt aside for a private conversation in her office.

"I know that you are giving Doctor Sweets psychological counseling along with being his medical advocate," she said. "That's why I feel that there is something you should know before he leaves here."

Werner then pulled out a file from her desk and turned it about in her hands nervously, a gesture that was not lost on Wyatt.

"When he was first brought in, we focused most of our energy on stabilizing him from his severe hypothermia," she continued. "After he was stable, we started a thorough examination to get a clear idea of the extent of his injuries." She held the file out to Wyatt, who took it and opened it up. "If you read my initial report, you will find that there was one exam which proved to be…inconclusive."

Wyatt nodded and began to read through the report silently. He soon found the part that he was sure that she was alluding to and his mouth opened slightly in horror at the implications.

"My God," he muttered.

"Let me assure you that the injuries were very minor and not permanent," Werner said. "And as you can see, there is no way to know the exact circumstances involved with this but…I think there is one conclusion that is hard to ignore. This is why I wanted to discuss it with you privately. I realize that cases like this…they require special handling."

"I understand," Wyatt said, closing the file and placing it back on her desk. "And I thank you for your discretion. This is not something that should be discussed with the others at this time."

As he left her office, Wyatt found himself saddened and somewhat distressed at what he had just learned. He was aware that it would add a very difficult and complex wrinkle on Sweets' therapy and was concerned about how the psychologist was processing it at this moment.

After some contemplation, however, Wyatt decided to carefully compartmentalize this information away and concentrate on more immediate concerns until a more appropriate time came to broach this subject.

* * *

Two days later, Sweets sat in his bed waiting for either Booth or Peter to show up to help him with his daily walk. Earlier that day, Angela had taken some of his get-well cards and gifts from the room so she could put them on display in his apartment and had mentioned that she would be back later to get the rest of his presents along with the photo display she had set up. Seeing the empty stands, Sweets thought again about the fact that he would soon be leaving the hospital. It sometimes seemed like a lifetime had passed since he first arrived and he was spending a lot of time these days wondering if things would ever go back to the way they used to be.

'_Will things ever be normal again?' _he asked himself._ 'Will I ever be normal? And just what is normal anymore?' _

"_Will I ever be the person I was before ever again?'_

"Hey Sweets."

The psychologist looked up to see Booth standing in the doorway. The agent walked over, crutches in hand and a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Ready for a walk?" he asked.

* * *

The two of them walked side-by-side for several minutes, neither of them saying a word. By this point, Sweets was starting to be able to walk without wobbling very much, but still had to go slow or become short of breath. Booth always stayed about a half step behind, ready to catch him if he needed to.

Once in a while Sweets glanced over at him and sighed. Despite their talk and Booth's frequent visits, it was clear to the both of them that things were still somewhat awkward between them, and Sweets hated the feeling. He thought back yet again to when he cowered away from Booth when the agent walked in on him hugging Brennan, and he gripped the handles to his crutches tightly.

'_I shouldn't be afraid of Booth,' _he chided himself. '_He wouldn't have hurt me. I…I'm almost sure of that…right?'_

Sweets gritted his teeth as his breathing became more labored. The fact that he still had doubts like that troubled him, but he was also painfully aware that this was not just about him and that it would take more than a few kind words between them to fix this.

Still he was determined to try to do something, so he fell back to what he knew best.

* * *

"Is something on your mind, Booth?"

Booth was surprised by the question, but not at the tone. It was classic Sweets: squinty and clinical to the end. It also still managed to irritate him, but he decided to ignore that feeling for now.

"Shouldn't I asking you that question?" Booth smirked. The psychologist's face remained neutral, and the agent heaved an elaborate sigh.

"Brennan mentioned that you were having trouble sleeping," Sweets continued as he limped along. "And I…I was thinking we could talk about that since, you know…I can relate to that."

"No offense, Sweets, but can you really?" Booth snapped before he could stop himself. "It's my job to protect all of you. Brennan, you, all of the squints. I don't see how you could know what it's like to know that you….that you…."

'_Failed,' _Booth completed in his mind. He then looked over at Sweets and instantly felt guilty at the way the psychologist was wincing, fear flickering in his eyes.

Suddenly Sweets stumbled hard and Booth rushed over to catch him before he could fall. As he held him upright, he could feel the therapist struggling to catch a full breath and shudders of exhaustion starting to wrack his body.

"Come on," the agent said, guiding him to a set of chairs near a large picture window. He helped Sweets sit down and then took a seat beside him. He watched Sweets slowly recover and his guilt only grew.

"Booth…I just wanted to thank you," Sweets finally said, breaking up the silence. The agent blinked in confusion.

"Thank me?"

"I've been talking to Brennan," Sweets continued. "She told me how Andrew planned to kill Peter. But you stopped him. You saved my cousin's life. And I can never thank you enough for protecting my family."

"Sweets, I…" Booth said, stunned at his words. "You're welcome." The two of them turned to stare at the window and they watched the people outside mill around the grounds. They stayed that way for a while and Booth pondered the fact that he had seen Sweets staring at a lot of windows recently. He then began to wonder if there was something to this newly acquired habit.

"The room Andrew kept me didn't have any windows," Sweets said quietly, his eyes never moving from their fixed point. Booth started at his words and scowled at how the psychologist had somehow managed again to sense his thoughts.

That frown quickly evaporated, however, when Booth realized that this was the first time Sweets had spoken a word about what had happened to him. The significance of this event was not lost on Booth in the least.

"The only light in the room was from a bare light bulb in the ceiling," Sweets continued. "Andrew often turned it off when he left the room. Between that and all the drugs…I never knew how much time had passed. Sometimes…sometimes it seemed like time was standing still and that all there was and all there ever would be was me chained to the bed and Andrew…and Andrew…."

The agent looked over at Sweets to see the psychologist still staring out the window, still except the tears streaming down his face and the rise and fall of his chest which was becoming more erratic as his breath hitched.

"But what was even worse was the way he left me alone in the dark when he was…done with me," Sweets added. "It was so dark; sometimes I was scared that the darkness was going to swallow me up and I'd die. Other times, other times that's exactly what I prayed for."

The therapist stretched his hand out toward the window; the sunlight dancing between his fingers.

"I thought for sure that I'd never see the sun again," he choked out. "I was sure that the last thing I'd see was Andrew's face as he…he…."

"Sweets?" Booth asked, nervous at the way the therapist's breath was becoming progressively shallower and faster. "Hey, Sweets it's over, all right?"

The psychologist didn't seem to hear him and had begun to hyperventilate while shivering violently. Booth got up and crouched down in front of him.

"Sweets calm down," he said. "Nothing is going to happen to you now. You're safe." The psychologist still did not respond and continued to gasp for air while staring off into space with wet, dilated eyes. The agent yanked his chair over so he could sit right in front of him and then carefully placed his hands on Sweets' arms, making sure not to grip him too tightly.

"Sweets, listen to me," he said, struggling to keep his own rising panic out of his voice. "You are in the hospital with me, not in that room. Now, breathe with me, all right?"

Booth took a couple of deep breaths and was relieved to see Sweets suddenly blink and try to copy him. After about a moment of that, the therapist seemed to snap out of whatever he was caught up in, and he coughed and slumped forward.

"Are you all right?" the agent asked, still not letting go of his arms.

"I…I think so," Sweets mumbled, his head still down. "I don't know what happened there. I was talking to you and then it's like I blacked out and…I was back there…."

The psychologist sniffed hard and wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"Hey Sweets, you have nothing to apologize for, ok?" Booth insisted. "Look, why don't we get you back to your room? Bones said something about bringing by some Italian pasta dish for lunch today and I figure by the time we get back, we'll both be ready for something to eat."

The agent stood up and noticed that Sweets had closed his eyes for a second while trying to slow his breathing.

"Do you want me to get a wheelchair for you?" he asked. "That'll make it easier."

"No," Sweets said as he struggled to his feet. "I want to get there on my own."

"Sweets…you don't have to do this," Booth frowned. "You don't need to prove anything to me."

"I know," the therapist said, looking him in the eye. "But maybe…maybe I need to prove something to me." Booth watched him steady himself on his feet, determination still shining in the therapist's eyes. The sight was enough to finally make Booth smile.

"All right," the agent said. "Lead the way."

Sweets nodded with a brief smile of his own and began to trudge down the hall. They didn't say anything else to each other on the way back and remained silent until Brennan showed up with food for all of them to share, but Booth ended up spending most of the evening there, even while other visitors came and went.

As they spent hours in mostly quiet company, both of them contemplated the fact that they were far from having everything worked out between them.

But both of them also found peace in the realization that they would get there eventually.


	40. Chapter 40

Author's Note: Final chapter. I am still working on the sequel right now, and with any luck the first chapter will be up within a week or two. The title is The Recovery in the Nocturne, and I am hoping that it won't take as long to write as this fic did. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who had read/followed/reviewed this. I appreciate all of your support.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you for your review, as always. I don't picture it being an easy road for Sweets, but I imagine that he will continue to pull strength from them as this chapter will point out. Again, that you for all of your consistent support.

**ASummer: **Well sadly, I think this chapter will leave more questions than answers, but I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless.

**Super Ario: **I completely agree with you. On one hand theirs is a friendship, on another it's an older/younger brother thing with it's expected inequalities at times. That along with the way Booth and Sweets come to each other for advice does make for a complex relationship...Despite what he's been through, I still see Sweets as stronger than he might appear on the surface and thus, has a greater "spirit" than what Andrew could have anticipated. I hope you enjoy this and the sequel coming up. :)

**Rex01: **Again, sorry but no spoilers from me. But take heart in knowing that I don't have studies to get in the way of writing these days. :)

**Rankor01: **First off, thanks again for discussing things with me in that PM. Again, I do think you would have figured it out had you kept speculating the way you were, so kudos for helping me to build my suspense for my sequel. :) I agree that Brennan is a logical choice for him to stay with and believe you're right in thinking that B&B will grow closer during this, but also think that will apply to the rest of them as well...But yeah, the romantic side of it won't be the focus of either fic...For Booth and Sweets, it will be a process, but you're right in saying that Sweets will start making some attempts to get better...even if there will be bumps along the way.

**Charlotte Thornton:** They needed to start talking, that's for sure. And a key issue will be their ability to keep this momentum going as recovery continues...I'm thrilled that you enjoyed this fic, and I hope you will enjoy the sequel as well.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. No surprise there, you're right, but then again I know you know about my fondness for scenes between those two. :) I see the time he spends with them as a chance for all of them to get to know each other in a way they haven't been able to do in canon...As we will see in the sequel, it will make for an interesting recovery.

**Ipizzlewizzle: **Thank you, but this one is coming to an end. But the sequel will come soon, so until then...

**Softballgirl05:**Oh no problem. I'm glad you enjoyed both chapters though. As far as the thing Wyatt and Werner discussed...that will have to wait until the sequel. And I agree that he's going to need all of them and especially Booth due to events in this chapter...I hope you will enjoy the end of this fic.

**D: **I agree with you about it taking longer to recover than to lose what was built up and the idea that Booth will need to eventually share some of his insight into the kinds of things Sweets went through in order for Sweets to get past some of his own warped ideas about the "right" or "correct" way to deal or feel about what happened to him...And I agree that Peter is not yet at Booth's level of worldliness and maturity and that he will act as an "older brother" type to the both of them at times...As for the shout-out, let's just say I never forgot about your musings about how good of an agent Peter might make in the future. I had been thinking about having him leave the army at some point, and your thoughts about what he might do felt very...apt considering his character. :) So thanks for the inspiration and all the great reviews.

**Lunarweather: **Yeah, I'm a bit of a sucker for scenes between Booth and Sweets so I'm glad you liked the one they had last chapter. As for the thing Wyatt and Werner were talking about...you may have a point that I might not have shown everything that happened while Jensen had Sweets...As for whether or not it means what you think or even what Wyatt and Werner might think it means...that is a matter that will be addressed in the sequel. I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic until then.

The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 40

Two days after leaving the hospital, Sweets was attending a funeral.

* * *

After Werner had given him one last thorough examination, she released the psychologist from the hospital, and on the way out, Sweets set up a couple of follow-up appointments. Everyone had been there to meet him as he left, and they took him to the Royal Diner for a celebratory round of desserts. While he was nibbling at his slice of pie, Sweets heard Brennan talk about the remains of some recent victims, and began to stare at her. Eventually noticing his stare, Brennan tilted her head toward him.

"What is it, Sweets?" The therapist cleared his throat a little and fidgeted with his fork.

"Um, Lillian's remains….Uh, Ms. Place's remains," he said. "What did you do with them?"

"They are no longer part of an active investigation," the anthropologist answered. "I turned them over for a burial from the state since there was no one else to take care of it. Why?"

"Could you help me get in contact with them?" Sweets asked. "So I could speak to them?"

"Of course," Brennan nodded. Sweets nodded in reply and then remained silent for the rest of the meal.

* * *

This led to where Sweets was now, riding in Booth's SUV with Booth driving, Brennan in the front seat, and him sitting in the back next to Peter, on the way to the cemetery. He had gotten a hold of the funeral director who had been in charge of Lillian's burial that afternoon and told him that he would pay for another funeral, and for a new headstone to be put on her grave. Arrangements had been made quickly, and the therapist had been able to set up for a memorial service for the day after tomorrow.

Everyone had been surprised at it, but asked very few questions, knowing that they probably would get little in the way of answers.

This was just another example of the increasingly opaque workings of the psychologist's brain of late.

* * *

All throughout the ride over there, Sweets remained silent, but his thoughts were noisy and discordant.

'_Lillian is dead and I am not…but did either of us really escape, Andrew?' _he wondered. '_Maybe neither one of us was meant to survive him in the end. He hurt so many people just to get to us. Maybe this is the price that we must pay for that. Lillian…she paid in full with her life.'_

'_What will my price be?'_

'_And how long will I be paying? Until I'm dead?'_

'_You'll never escape me, Lance,' _Andrew's voice rang out in his head, mocking him.

'_Still feel like "helping people"?'_

'_This is your fault.'_

'_You wanted this.'_

'_It's your fault.'_

Sweets shivered, despite the fact that he was in a warm car and was wearing a long, black overcoat. There was no way he could tell the others this, but as he got ready to leave the confines of his hospital room, he had begun to hear Andrew's voice in his head more frequently and sometimes, for a brief periods, he flashed back to the things Andrew had done to him. Even worse, these flashbacks had become increasingly vivid, and he had started to remember things that his brain had blocked out before. Things too horrifying and shameful to talk about.

Things he could not get out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

Desperate for a distraction, Sweets tried to focus his attention to the scenery that zoomed by his car window. The day was turning out to be a cool, grey one with only glimpses of pale sunlight peeking behind flat clouds. It was not raining, however, and Sweets tried to be grateful for that small bit of fortune.

He had managed to hide many, if not most, of his flashbacks from the others, and the therapist had every intention of keeping it that way. He loved his friends and family for who they were and how they were taking care of him, and he did not want to do anything that could change their perception of him.

'_Better to keep quiet and lock this away,' _he thought. '_I'm a trained psychologist. I can figure out on my own how to deal with all this. No need to involve them. Besides, I need to stop being so weak and helpless. They've already done so much for me. I can't keep asking for more and more.'_

* * *

Peter frowned when he looked over and saw his cousin shaking. He reached over and placed a arm around the therapist's shoulders and started to rub his back.

"Hey Whiz Kid, how are you doing?" he asked. "Are you up for all this?"

"I'm ok," Sweets nearly whispered. "Thank you."

"That's good," Peter said, patting his back a couple times. "You know that if you need anything though, that we're all here for you, right?"

"I know," Sweets said a trace of a smile on his lips. He then lapsed back into brooding silence, and the soldier frowned again.

The way Sweets was acting was becoming part of a pattern, a pattern that neither Peter nor the others felt very comforted by.

* * *

Sweets had settled into the spare room of Brennan's apartment easily. She had added a few things to the room to make it more comfortable for him like additional bedding and a couple stands so he could display some of his gifts and framed photographs, if he wanted to. Booth had brought over a suitcase of clothes for him, and Peter had fetched the trunk of mementos from Wyatt's place and brought them to his cousin.

"These are your things," Peter said as he sat the trunk in Sweets' room. "Maybe you should spend some time with them."

Sweets mutely agreed and had spent much of the first evening in Brennan's apartment silently looking over the contents of the trunk.

This solitary activity was symptomatic of new behaviors that had started to emerge. Everyone, including Peter, had been pleased with the progress Sweets had made recently, but they were also concerned with these new behaviors.

The psychologist often would stay silent for hours at a time, only speaking when spoken to. Even in relaxed group conversations, Sweets would sometimes open his mouth as if to say something only to stop himself and swiftly press his lips back together. The way he would then look down into his lap and bow his head could only be described as ashamed. Ashamed that he had even thought of speaking up.

The nightmares also persisted and would only abate if someone stayed with Sweets all night the same way Hodgins did. Also there were more panic attacks like the one Booth witnessed, but for the most part, they did not seem include a total blackout and accompanying flashback. Still, it was scary enough for everyone to watch Sweets begin to hyperventilate, shiver, hold his hand to his chest as if his heart was giving him trouble, and break out into a cold sweat.

Even in areas where he had made progress Sweets still struggled with some problems. He had stopped forbidding the others from touching him, but they also noticed how he often cowered whenever anyone outside of Booth, Brennan, Cam, Angela, Hodgins, Peter, Wyatt or Werner tried to touch him and how he was sometimes skittish if anyone touched him without warning. When Booth or Peter took accompanied him for his daily exercise, they had noted how the psychologist seemed timid of his surroundings and would only interact with strangers in the most functional of ways.

They had all gone to Wyatt and told him about these concerns and he confirmed their suspicions that Sweets was probably suffering from depression and severe PTSD.

The chef had been heartened, however, at the news that Sweets had shared a memory of his experiences with Booth.

"That was a very important first step," Wyatt said. "In order for him to recover, Doctor Sweets must feel that he can trust his family to take care of him and not reject him because of anything you lot might learn about what happened to him. The fact that he felt secure enough to tell Agent Booth anything is an encouraging sign, and anything any of you can do to help him continue to feel that sense of security is vital."

While they had been pleased that Wyatt confirmed this as a positive sign, they soon faced another crisis when Sweets announced his renewed intentions to quit his job at the Bureau and psychology altogether.

It had taken a long talk with everyone, including Wyatt, to convince Sweets to delay any such permanent action for now and to instead take a sabbatical from his work and see how he felt in a few months. The therapist eventually relented, and Booth took him to a meeting with Hacker to make the necessary arrangements. In a rare show of complete compassion, Hacker encouraged Sweets to take as much time as he needed and assured him that his job would still be there if he chose to come back to it. After the meeting, Booth knew that he would probably end up owning Hacker for this gesture, but at the time, it had been difficult to care about things like that.

* * *

Peter ground his jaw while he thought about all of these events and revelations, but did his best to maintain a calmer, somewhat cheerful demeanor. Anger would not help right now, and the soldier was all too aware of how easily it could be misread by his cousin. So instead he continued to keep his arm around Sweets' shoulders and comfort him the best he could.

Peter might have wanted to do more, but he and all the others, knew that this was all he could do until Sweets was ready to let them do more.

* * *

Once they arrived at the cemetery, everyone got out of Booth's SUV while Angela parked her van behind him which held everyone else. Peter helped Sweets get out of the car and then Angela and Cam each took one of his arms and helped him navigate the uneven grassy terrain while he used his new cane to support himself. The psychologist shivered again in the breeze, his too-thin body having become susceptible to even the slightest semblance of cold weather. Sweets pulled his coat tighter around himself which had the added effect of concealing the way his suit hung off his skinnier frame.

Everyone gathered around Lillian's freshly renovated grave site and a minister came out to say a few words. After he was done with his prayer, Booth Brennan, Cam, Hodgins, Angela and Peter all laid white flowers down onto the grave while Sweets continued to stare down at the recently disturbed earth. He then asked for a moment alone, and the others complied by taking a few steps back away from him and watching him stand there silently.

"Do you think he loved her?" Angela asked. "Or felt some kind of connection to her?"

"I don't think it was exactly love," Peter replied. "Lance has said many times over the years that the only person in the world who he considers his mother is Aunt Carolyn."

"Then why the funeral?" Hodgins wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Peter said, shaking his head. "I've known Lance since he was a kid, but there are times when I'm not sure if I really know him that well after all."

Everyone nodded at the truth they shared with Peter's words and quietly watched Sweets for a couple minutes before Peter nodded toward Booth and they walked over to the side.

"I'm going to Fort McNair tomorrow and then I'll be shipping out a couple of days after that," Peter said. "My superiors have a couple of errands they need me to run overseas."

"Errands?" Booth said, sensing the meaning behind that word.

"Yeah, something like that," Peter said, certain that Booth understood his meaning. "I've already told Lance about it, and I planned on tell the rest of you after we leave here. But the point is that…Lance…he's doing better, but he's not well. Not by any stretch."

Booth nodded in agreement. Sweets had not opened up again about his ordeal with Jensen since that day in the hospital, and he was worried that Sweets was, in some ways, suffering more instead of less these days.

"What I'm trying to say is that…I'm counting on all of you," the soldier continued. "I'm counting on all of you to take care of him while I'm away, and Booth…I'm asking you specifically: please keep an eye on him."

"I will, Peter," the agent said, reaching over to shake his hand.

"Thank you," Peter said his tone warm and more than a little relieved. "I know that things are still somewhat tense between you two, but believe me, Lance still respects and cares for you. He just needs time."

"I know," Booth replied, glancing over at Sweets and then at Brennan before looking back into Peter's eyes. "Don't worry. We are going to make sure he has all the time and care he needs."

Peter nodded and went back to join the others in their vigil over the psychologist. Brennan then walked over and stood next to Booth.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him.

"I was just…" the agent sighed and then turned toward her. "I was thinking about Sweets and all this…you know? I…Sometimes I wonder if he's going to recover from all this. I know he's tougher than he looks but…is that going to be enough?"

"Maybe," Brennan said. "But perhaps we should look beyond strength. In the past, you've mentioned that there are many qualities that make up a person of true stature and worth. Things like a kind heart and a spirit that will rise up to meet every obstacle in life and that won't allow itself to be extinguished." The anthropologist moved closer to Booth and took his arm into hers.

"I believe that Sweets possesses this kind of spirit," she said. "And perhaps we are just starting to see its ability to surmount the challenges that it is given."

"I hope you're right Bones," Booth said. "Because right now…it's hard not to wonder if we were too late after all."

Brennan's face fell at his comment and she looked back over at Sweets, who still hadn't moved. She then let go of Booth's arm and to everyone's surprise, she walked over to where Sweets was standing and stood next to him. The therapist gave her a shy smile and she smiled back while reaching for his hand.

"Angela and Booth have told me that visiting my mother's grave is a way to stay in touch with her," Brennan said as she held his hand.

"Do you believe that?" Sweets asked her.

"Not entirely," the anthropologist said. "When people die, they are no longer able to communicate with anyone. Placing flowers next to a headstone or saying some words to a plot of ground does not change that. However, it is somewhat…comforting to be able to reflect on my memories of my mother, and I find that visiting her grave does give me a focus that is difficult to achieve elsewhere."

Brennan paused and tightened her grip on the therapist's hand before speaking again.

"Do you find it easier to focus on your mother here?" she asked.

"Lillian was not my mother," Sweets said, returning his gaze to the ground. "She might have been my mother in the strictest biological sense but….we were not meant to be together."

The psychologist took a deep breath and then faced Brennan, his expression unreadable.

"Lillian was far from perfect," he said. "But she did not deserve what happened to her. She was…she was Andrew's victim. Just like me. But she…she was willing to make sure that my parents could legally adopt me and that I would never be put back in Andrew's custody when I was a child. I think it was her way of trying to make up for abandoning me. I believe she had a good heart, deep down, but she allowed herself to become too jaded by life."

Sweets carefully bent down and placed another white rose onto Lillian's grave and returned his focus to her headstone.

"You know, she knew this would happen," he murmured. "When I tried to find her…she sent me a letter asking me to stop, and in it she mentioned that she saw her own death at Andrew's hand. It's why she ran away…But in the end, I guess she wasn't able to escape the fate she saw for herself."

Brennan found herself at a loss to know what to say in response to that and decided to envelop the psychologist's hand in both of hers. Sweets smiled a little again and squeezed her hands in appreciation.

He then looked down at the grave again, his eyes resting on the name carved into the headstone.

'_I'm sorry Lillian. I hope your spirit was able to find the freedom in the next world that it couldn't find in this one.'_

Sweets felt his eyes growing wet, but did his best to hold his tears in. He was glad that he had gone ahead with this funeral having felt a small sense of closure from the event, but he could not deny the feeling that he had also buried a part of himself when he helped to re-inter his birth mother's remains.

The sun finally intensified its light and warmth finally broke through the clouds. Sweets looked up at the sky and marveled at how beautiful it was despite its gloom.

Sweets then found that he was able to find a measure of peace out of the fact that he was still able to enjoy it, the knowledge that he was treasured by family and friends, and the hope that the future could still hold some prospect of transformation and happiness eventually.


End file.
